THE  TRIGGER  OF 
CONSCIENCE 


Books  by 
EGBERT  ORR  CHIPPERFIELD 

THE  SECOND  BULLET 
UNSEEN  HANDS 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  Jure 
Box 


THE    TBIGGEE    OF    COW- 
SCIENCE 


THE  TRIGGER  OF 
CONSCIENCE 

BY 
ROBERT  ORR  CHIPPERPIELD 

Author  of  "The  Second  Bullet,"  "Unseen 
Hands,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

ROBERT  M.  McBRIDE  &  COMPANY 
1921 


Copyright,       1921,      by 

ROBEBT      M.      McBBIDE      &      CO. 


Printed        in        the 

United      States      of      America 


Published,         1921 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAOE 


I 

MR.  GRANT  INVITES  CRITICISM    . 

1 

IT 

THE  HORNET'S  NEST  

18 

JL-L. 

Ill 

UNDER  THE  DRAGON  LANTERN     . 

33 

IV 

THE  GLISTENING  STRAND 

52 

V 

EENWICK  CRANE  ARRIVES 

64 

VI 

"MORE  THAN  ONE"  

83 

VII 

THE  MAN  IN  THE  BUSHES     . 

99 

VIII 

IN  THE  BOXWOOD  BUSHES      .     . 

115 

IX 

THE  CURIOSITY  OF  MRS.  SOWERBY    . 

132 

X 

THE  WOMAN  UPSTAIRS     .... 

148 

XI 

THE  SHOT  FROM  THE  AIR     . 

161 

XII 

"I  KILLED  HIM"  

183 

XIII 

THE  DRIVER  OF  DEATH     .... 

200 

XIV 

TELLTALE  NUMERALS  

214 

XV 

MRS.  DORRANCE  ADVANCES  A  THEORY 

232 

XVI 

A  PIECE  OF  RIBBON     

249 

XVII 

THE  SHADOW  ON  THE  DOOR  . 

265 

xvin 

THE  ROSE-LEAF  EAR  

280 

XIX 

"THE  TRIANGLE  TURN"  .     . 

299 

2134SS5 


THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

CHAPTER  I 

MB.  GRANT  -INVITES   CRITICISM 

THE  golf  course  of  the  Broadlawns  Country 
Club  lay  basking  in  the  mellow  sunshine  of  a 
late  September  afternoon.  Vivid  coats  and  sweat- 
ers made  bright  splashes  of  color,  and  the  striped 
awning  of  the  marquee  upon  the  lawn  challenged 
the  eye  as  defiantly  as  at  the  commencement  of 
the  season.  But  the  stout,  white-haired  old  gen- 
tleman on  the  veranda  shivered  and  tugged  at  the 
collar  of  his  too  youthful  sport  coat. 

"Hello,  Sowerby!  Been  around  to-day?"  A 
cold,  rather  gibing  voice  sounded  just  behind 
him,  and  President  Sowerby  of  the  Tradesmen's 
Bank  turned  irascibly  in  his  chair,  and  the  gaitered 
foot,  which  had  rested  carefully  upon  the  veranda 
rail,  slipped  to  the  floor. 

Just  behind  him  stood  a  handsome  man  of  about 
forty.  The  telltale  lines  about  his  shrewd  eyes 
and  the  curious  patch,  like  a  white  postage  stamp, 

1 


2         THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

in  the  dark  hair  above  each  ear,  only  added  to  an 
engaging  countenance. 

"Confound  you,  Bowles!"  Rutherford  Sowerby 
exclaimed  as  he  recognized  the  newcomer.  "Why 
do  you  sneak  up  on  those  rubber  soles  of  yours 
like  a  stage  detective?" 

He  paused  with  a  snort,  and  the  other,  in  the 
freedom  of  old  acquaintanceship,  laughed  and 
perched  himself  on  the  veranda  rail.  "Sorry  I 
startled  you.  Little  touch  of  the  gout  to-day?" 
he  asked  with  half-bantering  sympathy. 

"No,  it  isn't!"  the  old  gentleman  lied  bravely. 
"I'm  waiting  for  my  wife;  never  knew  a  woman 
to  be  on  time  yet!  How  was  the  market?  I 
didn't  run  into  town  this  morning." 

"Pretty  steady,"  the  broker  responded  ab- 
sently, his  eyes  upon  two  figures,  which,  unseen 
by  his  older  companion,  had  started  around  the 
corner  of  the  veranda.  One  was  a  young  woman 
not  yet  out  of  her  twenties,  pretty  in  a  fluffy,  col- 
orless, rather  insipid  fashion,  and  the  other  was  a 
slightly  older  man  with  a  dapper  little  blond  mus- 
tache and  prominent  light  blue  eyes. 

The  couple  halted  instantly,  and  the  woman 
flushed  and  made  a  slight,  almost  imperceptible 
motion  of  dismissal.  Her  companion,  accepting 
his  dismissal,  disappeared  around  the  corner  of 


MR.  GRANT  INVITES  CRITICISM        3 

the  veranda,  and  she  came  forward  biting  her  full 
lips.  Bowles,  the  broker,  smiled  inwardly  at  the 
incident.  The  woman  was  Sowerby's  young  wife, 
and  Philip  Dorrance,  treasurer — popularly  known 
as  "husband" — of  the  Farr  Rubber  Company, 
had  been  her  companion.  Ogden  Bowles  raised 
his  voice  slightly  and  added  in  his  bantering  tone : 
"There  wasn't  much  movement  on  the  Exchange, 
but  rubber  seems  to  be  booming.  Good  afternoon, 
Mrs.  Sowerby!"  He  rose,  and  young  Mrs.  Sow- 
erby  flushed — as  he  had  meant  that  she  should — 
and  darted  a  venomous  glance  at  him. 

1  i  Good  afternoon, ' '  she  replied  sweetly.  '  *  Have 
you  met  the  new  secretary  of  the  club — the  one 
whom  the  committee  engaged  to  succeed  poor  Mr. 
Martin?  Mrs.  Carter  says  he  is  rather  a  grouch, 
but  I  believe  he  refused  to  advance  her  any  money 
this  afternoon  to  pay  her  bridge  debt.  He  told 
her  that  her  account  on  the  books  was  already 
quite  heavy  for  this  month,  and,  being  a  new  man, 
he  couldn't  take  the  responsibility  without  con- 
sulting the  secretary  of  the  club,  Mr.  Estridge." 
She  smiled  and  turned  to  her  husband.  "Have  I 
kept  you  waiting,  dear?  I  stopped  for  a  minute 
to  speak  to  the  Frasers  and  Mr.  Dorrance.  They 
were  watching  Gerald  Landon  and  Miss  Dare 
finish  their  round." 


4         THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

Bowles*  face  had  darkened  for  an  instant  at 
her  thrust  at  Mrs.  Carter.  Ignoring  her  remark 
about  the  secretary,  he  repeated,  as  he  prepared 
to  depart:  "Gerald  Landon?  That  young  friend 
of  the  Frasers?  I  hope  he  shows  up  well  later  in 
the  tournament,  for  he's  made  the  only  decent 
scores  here  this  season.  By  the  way,  I  understand 
he  is  the  assistant  cashier  at  your  bank,  Sowerby  ? 
What  we  need  here  is  young  blood  to  put  some 
pep  into  the  game.  I  am  sure  a  golf  enthusiast 
like  yourself  will  agree  with  me.  Please  save  me 
a  fox  trot  at  the  dance  to-night,  Mrs.  Sowerby." 

As  the  broker  moved  away  Sowerby  thundered 
at  his  wife.  "What  we  need  is  less  of  his  cool 
impudence  around  here,"  he  said.  "What  busi- 
ness is  it  of  his  how  enthusiastic  I  am  about 
his  infernal  golf,  and  what  business  have  you 
to  interest  yourself  in  that  Carter  woman's 
debts!" 

"Just — because,"  Maud  Sowerby  responded. 

"Gad,  it's  the  sort  of  thing  a  man  wouldn't  have 
mentioned !  Commend  me  to  women  for  making  a 
country  club  a  hotbed  of  knocking  and  backbiting 
and  general  cattishness ! "  Her  husband  stamped 
his  gouty  foot  and  then  swore  vigorously,  but  her 
equanimity  was  not  disturbed. 


ME.  GRANT  INVITES  CRITICISM        5 

"Go  on,  dear!  You've  called  me  the  name  of 
about  every  other  animal  in  the  menagerie,  so  I 
may  as  well  be  a  cat,  too, ' '  she  observed. 

His  fat  face  flamed  in  mounting,  apoplectic 
rage.  "Cats  aren't  in  menageries!  They're  in 
back  alleys  like  the  one  you  came  from!"  he  ex- 
claimed. ' '  Stop  that  infernal  tapping  on  the  rail 
with  your  fingers.  You're  no  longer  at  the  type- 
writer where  I  found  you  when  I  was  fool  enough 
to  marry  you!" 

Maud  Sowerby's  breath  drew  in  with  a  little 
venomous  hiss,  but  the  nervous  tapping  of  her 
fingers  ceased  obediently.  She  was  as  much 
ashamed  of  those  stubby,  thickened  fingers  as  of 
the  plebeian  origin  with  which  the  irascible  old 
man  always  taunted  her  when  his  gout  got  the 
better  of  him.  The  next  moment  she  rose  lightly 
from  the  low  wicker  chair. 

"I  think  I'll  join  the  Frasers."  In  spite  of 
herself  a  little  sharp  note  had  crept  into  her 
tones.  "This  constant  washing  of  dirty  linen 
in  public,  my  dear  Rutherford,  really  ought  to  be 
confined  to  back  yards  where  alley  cats  con- 
gregate ! ' ' 

As  she  left  him  the  old  man  chuckled  in  vicious 
glee.  He  was  still  chuckling  when  a  tall,  slender, 


6         THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

distinguished-looking,  gray-haired  man  of  fifty, 
after  a  word  or  two  with  the  club  steward  in  the 
doorway,  approached  him. 

"Hello,  Rutherford!  Have  you  met  the  new 
secretary  of  the  club1?"  His  voice,  though  confi- 
dentially modulated,  was  suave  and  resonant  with 
the  notes  of  a  trained  orator,  and  the  smile,  with 
which  he  met  the  eyes  of  the  bank  president,  was 
the  diplomatic  one  which  had  overcome  the  preju- 
dices of  more  than  one  difficult  jury  in  a  cele- 
brated case. 

Rutherford  Sowerby  grunted.  "  'Lo,  Sam! 
What's  all  this  about  your  infernal  secretary? 
Haven't  I  always  maintained  that  this  club  was 
too  small  to  need  a  salaried  one?  Aren't  you  the 
official,  duly  elected  officer  in  that  capacity?  I 
never  did  see  why  the  steward  couldn't  keep  the 
tuppenny  monthly  accounts  and  bring  them  to  you 
to  be  ratified  without  any  intermediary." 

"Yet  you  were  one  of  the  directors  at  the  last 
meeting  who  instructed  the  chairman  of  the  house 
committee  to  ask  me  to  find  a  man  for  you." 
Samuel  Estridge's  tone  seemed  not  to  have 
changed,  but  it  held  a  quality  which  made  the 
older  man  eye  him  more  keenly.  "I  think  you'd 
better  come  along  and  have  a  look  at  him. ' ' 

Without  another  word  Sowerby  hauled  himself 


MR.  GRANT  INVITES  CRITICISM        7 

out  of  his  chair,  and  the  two  strolled  into  the  club- 
house. They  proceeded  at  once  to  the  secretary's 
office  on  the  other  side  of  the  staircase  from  that 
of  the  steward. 

Here  they  found  a  stocky  man  of  indeterminate 
middle  age,  with  a  shock  of  sandy  hair  as  heavy 
as  a  wig  and  thick-rimmed  glasses  beneath  his 
eye-shade,  poring  nearsightedly  over  a  ledger 
behind  the  desk.  In  front  of  it  stood  a  stout,  ma- 
jestic, elderly  woman  with  a  high,  bony  nose  and 
piercing  dark  eyes  that  glared  across  the  counter 
through  a  short-handled,  diamond-studded  lor- 
gnette. 

"I  am  positive  that  there  is  some  mistake!" 
she  was  saying  in  frigid,  dominant  tones.  Then, 
as  she  caught  sight  of  the  newcomers,  she  turned 
to  the  lawyer.  "Mr.  Estridge,  I  really  think  that 
Mr.  Martin,  no  matter  how  ill  he  was  before  he 
went  West,  ought  to  have  gone  more  thoroughly 
over  the  books  with  your  new  Mr.  Grant  here.  I 
am  certain  that  my  personal  account  is  incorrect, 
and,  although  I  do  not  wish  to  go  so  far  as  to  lay 
it  before  the  board — " 

"My  clear  Mrs.  de  Forest,  this  is  Mr.  Grant's 
first  day  in  active  charge,  you  know."  The  law- 
yer's voice  was  as  winning  as  his  smile.  "I  prom- 
ise you  that  I  will  give  him  my  personal  assistance 


8         THE  TEIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

and  look  into  this  matter  at  the  earliest  possible 
opportunity. ' ' 

Cutting  short  the  lady's  effusive  declaration 
that  she  would  not  dream  of  troubling  him  and 
had  no  doubt  that  the  trifling  affair  would  adjust 
itself,  he  led  her  adroitly  into  a  discussion  of  the 
afternoon's  bridge  game.  Presently  the  dapper, 
blond,  young  Mr.  Dorrance  appeared  in  the  door- 
way and,  with  the  conciliatory  little  cough  he 
usually  reserved  solely  for  addressing  his  own 
wife,  announced:  "Mrs.  de  Forest,  I  have  been 
looking  everywhere  for  you!  Josephine  and  the 
Frasers  are  waiting  tea,  and  they  wouldn't 
dream " 

The  social  arbiter  of  Broadlawns  smiled  gra- 
ciously. "Of  course !  I'll  join  them  at  once.  How 
stupid  of  me ! ' '  With  an  inclination  of  her  elabo- 
rately coiffured  gray  head  to  the  others  she  de- 
parted in  his  company  much  after  the  manner  of 
a  huge  liner  with  a  fussy  little  tug.  Sowerby 
growled  in  an  aside  to  the  lawyer:  "Wish  she 
would  lay  something  before  the  board,  as  she's 
always  threatening  to  do,  while  I'm  present  at 

the  meeting!  What  I'd  do  to  it But  your 

man  here  does  seem  to  be — er — going  a  bit 
farther  than  Martin.  I  hear  he  disputed  Mrs. 
Carter's  credit." 


MR.  GRANT  INVITES  CRITICISM        9 

The  shock  of  sandy  hair  had  not  raised  itself 
an  inch  from  above  the  ledger,  and  Estridge 
stepped  qniokly  forward  as  though  he,  too,  had 
not  heard  his  companion's  remark. 

"Getting  on  to  the  work  all  right,  Grant?  Mr. 
Sowerby,  this  is  Mr.  James  Grant,  who  will  look 
after  the  books  for  us  in  place  of  Mr.  Martin. 
Grant,  this  is  Mr.  Rutherford  Sowerby,  president 
of  the  Tradesmen's  Bank  in  New  York  and  one 
of  the  directors  of  the  club." 

The  new  secretary  of  the  club  acknowledged  the 
introduction  with  just  the  right  shade  of  deference 
and  then  replied  to  the  lawyer's  question:  "Yes, 
sir,  I  think  I  shall  get  on  to  the  work  in  time  quite 
satisfactorily.  Murdock  has  been  assisting  me 
to-day  in  his  spare  time." 

"  ' Murdock ?'  Yes,  I'm  sure  you'll  find  the 
steward  very  helpful,  and  there  is  no  reason  why 
you  shouldn't  delegate  a  lot  of  the  minor  accounts 
to  him,  Mr.  Grant."  Samuel  Estridge  turned 
away.  "You  needn't  stay  cooped  up  in  here  all 
the  time,  you  know.  Come  on,  Rutherford,  I've 
got  something  better  than  tea  in  my  locker!" 

Young  Mrs.  Sowerby  appeared  in  the  door  of 
the  office.  "Rutherford,  the  car's  waiting,  and 
you  know  you  ordered  it  for  five  o'clock."  She 
spoke  hurriedly,  and  her  eyes  shifted  as  though, 


10       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

strangely  enough,  she  were  trying  to  avoid  meet- 
ing the  gaze  of  the  man  behind  the  desk.  "How 
do  yon  do,  Mr.  Estridge?  May  we  drop  you  at 
your  place  on  our  way  home?" 

"Thanks,  I'm  staying  on  here  a  little  longer. 
Have  you  met  our  new  house  secretary,  Mr. 
Grant?"  Estridge  was  watching  her  curiously, 
and  he  noted  the  quick,  uncontrollable  flush  which 
mounted  in  her  face. 

"Yes,  I — I've  met  Mr.  Grant."  Her  eyelids 
fluttered  and  fell,  and  then  she  turned  quickly  to 
her  husband.  "Rutherford,  Whitcomb  says  that 
the  batteries " 

With  feline  cleverness  she  had  scratched  upon 
a  spot  already  sore.  ' '  Whitcomb 's  a  fool ! ' '  Sow- 
erby  charged  for  the  door.  "See  you  to-night, 
Sam.  This  is  your  fool  nonsense,  Maud,  in  want- 
ing a  bullheaded  British  driver  because  he  looked 
swagger.  Swagger,  my  eye!  Now  he  wants 
the  earth!  Don't  I  know  the  batteries  of  that 
car?" 

His  voice  died  away  upon  the  veranda,  and 
Estridge  turned  with  a  little  shrug  to  the  new 
secretary,  but  that  worthy  had  bent  once  more 
over  his  ledger,  and  the  lawyer  strolled  out. 

In  the  rotundalike  entrance  hall,  where,  as  upon 
the  veranda,  cozy  little  groups  were  having  tea, 


MR.  GRANT  INVITES  CRITICISM      11 

he  came  upon  Ogden  Bowles  deep  in  conversation 
with  a  tall,  willowy  woman,  whose  rich  red  hair 
was  drawn  down  over  her  ears  like  a  Madonna  by 
Raphael.  He  would  have  passed  them  with  a 
smiling  nod,  but  the  broker  stopped  him. 

"I  say,  Estridge,  do  sit  down  for  a  minute  and 
amuse  Mrs.  Carter.  iVe  got  to  see  the  secretary, 
and  I  am  afraid  she  will  run  away  from  me!  I 
have  been  trying  to  persuade  her  to  dine  with  the 
Dorrances  and  me  at  the  Mayblossom  Inn — I'd 
ask  you,  too,  but  I  know  that  you  are  booked 
already,  unfortunately — and  I'm  not  having  any 
luck." 

11  Don't  try  to  amuse  me,  Mr.  Estridge — all  the 
men  do  that — but  take  this  chair  by  me  and  satisfy 
my  feminine  and  trivial  curiosity."  Mrs.  Carter 
had  large  eyes  of  a  peculiar  golden  brown,  and 
she  knew  how  to  use  them.  There  was  nothing 
for  the  attorney  to  do  but  to  acquiesce,  and  he 
dropped  into  the  chair  indicated,  as  Bowles  bowed 
and  turned  toward  the  little  office. 

"Anything  that  interested  you  sufficiently  to 
arouse  your  curiosity  could  not  be  trivial,  Mrs. 
Carter, ' '  he  murmured  mechanically. 

"That  isn't  worthy  of  you,  Mr.  Estridge,"  she 
replied.  "One  might  expect  that  sort  of  thing 
from  Phil  Dorrance,  perhaps,  if  his  wife  were 


12       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

not  within  hearing,  but  not  from  our  most  noted 
criminal  lawyer." 

"  'Criminal  lawyer '  sounds  ambiguous,  doesn't 
it?"  he  said.  "But,  seriously,  you  have  aroused 
my  curiosity  by  declaring  that  you  have  any.  I 
have  always  looked  upon  you  as  one  woman  devoid 
of  it." 

"It  isn't  very  active."  As  she  spoke  Mrs.  Car- 
ter's glinting,  topaz  eyes  shifted  from  him  to  the 
tiny  office  at  the  right  of  the  broad  staircase. 
"Tell  me  something  about  the  club's  new  secre- 
tary— Mr.  Grant,  isn't  it?  He  seems  to  be  rather 
an  unusual  individual,  not  quite  like  a  mere 
clerk. ' ' 

"He  isn't."  The  attorney  spoke  easily  enough, 
and  his  tone  had  sunk  to  an  even  more  conversa- 
tional level,  but  he  eyed  Mrs.  Carter's  profile, 
clean  cut  against  her  banded,  straight  red  hair, 
with  a  shrewd  glimmer  of  speculation.  * '  I  believe 
he  held  a  more  superior  position  of  some  sort,  but 
he  has  accepted  this  until  Martin's  return  because 
he  is  so  keen  on  golf.  He  won't  be  tied  down  to 
the  office  since  Murdock  can  do  a  lot  of  his  work. 
You've  met  him?  I  hope  he  hasn't  been  officious 
about  the  accounts  or  anything?  These  men  who 
feel  superior  to  their  positions  so  often  are  dic- 
tatorial." 


MR.  GRANT  INVITES  CRITICISM      13 

Mrs.  Carter  laughed  lightly,  and  one  of  her 
long,  slim,  very  white  hands  gripped  the  chair 
arm  until  the  wicker  creaked.  "Oh,  dear,  no!  I 
never  bother  about  my  club  accounts  except  to 
write  a  check  for  the  total  at  the  first  of  the  month 
without  even  glancing  over  my  slips.  I'm  such  a 
bad  business  woman !  But,  when  I  went  in  to  ask 
this  Mr.  Grant  some  trivial  question  or  other,  a 
little  while  ago,  he  seemed  to  mistake  me  for  some 
one  else  and  was  so  politely  incredulous  about  it 
that  it  rather  amused  me.  I'm  sure  I  never  laid 
eyes  on  the  man  before,  unless  he  has  waited  upon 
me  in  some  shop  or  bank.  What  did  you  say  his 
position  was  previous  to  his  coming  here,  Mr. 
Estridge?" 

Her  tone  was  a  bored,  idle  one,  but,  as  she 
moved  again  restlessly  in  her  chair,  the  attorney 
caught  another  glimpse  of  her  eyes,  and  their 
eager,  almost  defensive,  light  did  not  accord  with 
her  manner.  Was  it  fear  that  he  read  in  them — 
the  same  fear  which  had  covered  the  less  well- 
poised  little  Mrs.  Sowerby  with  confusion? 

"I  didn't  say,  but  I'm  quite  sure  he  has  never 
waited  upon  any  one  in  his  life,"  Estridge  replied 
deliberately.  "I  understand  he  was  the  confiden- 
tial secretary  for  some  very  noted  personage." 

"For  whom?"    A  crisp  voice  behind  him  made 


14       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

him  glance  over  his  shoulder  to  see  that  Ogden 
Bowles  had  returned.  In  the  usually  debonair 
broker,  too,  there  appeared  a  slight,  but  signifi- 
cant, change.  The  fine  lines  about  his  eyes  seemed 
to  have  deepened,  and  his  lips  were  set.  "Who 
is  this  fellow,  Grant,  Estridge!  You'll  forgive  me 
for  overhearing  a  part  of  your  conversation,  but 
it  was  unavoidable.  The  man  seems  rather  a  dub 
to  me." 

"Oh,  give  him  time,  Bowles;  this  is  his  first 
day,  you  know."  The  attorney  laughed  good- 
naturedly,  but  in  his  mind  a  curious  question  was 
forming.  "I  don't  know  for  whom  the  chap  was 
confidential  secretary,  but  if  you're  interested  I 
don't  doubt  that  I  can  find  out  from  the  house  com- 
mittee." 

"I'm  not  sufficiently  interested  for  that, 
thanks. ' '  Bowles  laughed  also,  but  rather  shortly. 
"Mrs.  Carter,  is  it  to  be  the  Mayblossom  Inn?" 

She  rose  with  a  slow  shake  of  her  head.  "So 
sorry,  but  I  find  that  I  have  a  slight  headache, 
and,  if  I  am  to  return  for  the  dance  to-night,  I 
must  rest.  I'll  let  you  run  me  home  to  my  little 
cottage,  though,  if  you  like." 

After  a  final  word  or  two  with  Estridge  the 
couple  moved  off  down  the  veranda  steps,  and  the 


MR.  GRANT  INVITES  CRITICISM      15 

attorney  sank  back  in  the  chair  from  which  he 
had  just  arisen,  but  he  turned  it  so  as  to  face 
the  door  of  the  little  office  in  which  the  new  secre- 
tary had  been  installed.  What  was  the  matter 
with  Mrs.  Sowerby  and  Mrs.  Carter  and  Bowles? 
Could  it  be  his  own  imagination,  could  his  nerves 
have  gone  back  on  him  after  that  last  big,  grueling 
contest  of  wits  in  court,  or  was  there  really  some- 
thing strange  and  sinister  underlying  the  tranquil 
surface  atmosphere  of  this  little  club  of  suburban 
acquaintances — greater  even  than  he  had  conceived 
in  his  knowledge  of  their  petty  affairs? 

While  he  sat  there  lost  in  reverie  Murdock,  the 
steward,  approached.  He  was  a  man  of  forty-odd 
with  a  slight  touch  of  gray  at  his  temples  and  the 
expressionless  face  of  the  perfectly  trained  serv- 
ant. Absently  Estridge  ordered  a  lemonade. 
When  the  man  brought  it  he  remarked:  "Mur- 
dock, Mr.  Grant  says  that  you  have  been  helping 
him  to-day  with  the  accounts  which  Mr.  Martin 
left  unfinished." 

Murdock  coughed.  "Well,  yes,  sir,"  he  mur- 
mured. '  *  Having  a  little  spare  time  and  knowing 
the  books  from  going  over  them  with  Mr.  Martin, 
I  thought  it  was  what  the  house  committee  would 
wish,  sir." 


16       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

His  tone  was  apologetic,  as  though  feeling  that 
he  had  overstepped  the  bounds  of  his  appointed 
duty,  but  Samuel  Estridge  nodded  approvingly. 
"Quite  right,  Murdock.  Take  as  much  off  Mr. 
Grant 's  hands  as  you  can,  especially  at  first.  You 
know  the  books,  and  of  course  they've  been  kept 
absolutely  straight." 

"Of  course,  sir."  Murdock  placed  the  empty 
glass  upon  his  tray  and  started  to  move  off.  The 
attorney  stopped  him  once  more  and  spoke  in  a 
lowered  tone: 

"Murdock,  you've  been  a  trusted  employee  of 
Broadlawns  since  it  was  built,  and,  if  anything 
goes  on  at  any  time  that  strikes  you  as  being — 
er — not  quite  regular,  I  shall  appreciate  your  com- 
ing to  me,  as  secretary,  instead  of  first  reporting 
the  matter  to  the  house  committee,  you  under- 
stand?" 

Murdock 's  face  remained  expressionless,  but  he 
responded  with  a  shade  more  emphasis:  "Per- 
fectly, sir.  I  have  heard  of  nothing  irregular,  and 
I  am  quite  sure  that  there  will  be  no  difficulty 
about  the  books.  Thank  you,  sir. ' ' 

This  time  he  departed  without  further  com- 
ment or  instruction,  but  when  he  had  disappeared 
Estridge  glanced  once  more  through  the  doorway 


MB.  GRANT  INVITES  CRITICISM      17 

into  the  office  of  the  new  secretary.  The  shock  of 
sandy  hair  had  been  raised  for  an  instant  from 
above  the  ledger,  and  from  behind  a  pair  of  heavy- 
rimmed  glasses  two  shadowed,  unexpectedly  keen 
eyes  seemed  staring  into  his  own. 


CHAPTER  n 

THE  HOBNET'S  NEST 

OEPTEMBER  had  vanished  in  a  burst  of 
^  springlike  warmth.  October  ushered  in  a 
period  of  premature,  nipping  frost  which  drove 
all  but  the  hardiest  of  the  golf  players  from  the 
course  and  speedily  turned  the  leaves  of  the  trees 
about  the  clubhouse  to  the  evanescent  scarlet  and 
gold  of  autumn. 

The  veranda  was  now  practically  deserted. 
Those  of  the  all-year  colony,  who  still  forgathered 
at  Broadlawns  for  tea  and  afternoon  bridge,  pre- 
ferred the  spacious  entrance  hall  and  dining  room 
— the  latter  in  reality  a  converted  sun  parlor.  It 
was  here  that  two  feminine  members  of  the  club 
were  lunching  together  one  glowing  day  late  in 
the  month. 

"This  salad  is  atrocious!"  The  larger,  more 
elderly  of  the  two  ladies  shook  her  elaborately 
dressed  gray  head  indignantly.  "I  am  really 
tempted  to  lay  the  matter  of  the  cuisine  before 

18 


THE  HORNET'S  NEST  19 

the  board!  As  it  is  I  would  have  invited  you  to 
lunch  at  the  house,  Mrs.  Dorrance,  but  I  fancied 
we  might  pick  up  two  people  here  for  bridge  later. 
Besides  I  am  breaking  in  a  new  cook.  You  know 
what  that  means!" 

"Indeed  I  do,  my  dear  Mrs.  de  Forest!"  the 
other  replied.  She  was  dark  and  beetle-browed, 
and  an  undeniable  shadow  appeared  upon  her  firm 
upper  lip.  A  tendency  to  embonpoint  she  curbed 
with  obviously  Spartan  courage.  Her  one  known 
act  of  self-indulgence  had  been  her  marriage  to 
good-looking,  penniless,  weak  Phil  Dorrance,  twelve 
years  her  junior.  She  had  made  him  treasurer  of 
the  great  Farr  Rubber  Company,  and,  although 
men  looked  with  contempt  upon  him  for  the  trans- 
action, it  was  mingled  with  pity.  For  the  "Em- 
press Josephine,"  as  all  Broadlawns  called  her 
behind  her  arrogant  back,  was  no  easy  task-mis- 
tress. "Our  own  cook  left  this  morning,  but 
Philip  is  bringing  another  out  from  town  with 
him  this  afternoon." 

"I  thought  he  was  playing  off  his  match  with 
Ogden  Bowles  to-day,"  Mrs.  de  Forest  observed. 

"No.  I  sent  him  in  to  Harlier's  with  my  emer- 
alds; it  occurred  to  me  that  I  had  better  have 
the  settings  looked  over  before  the  Hallowe'en 
dance  to-morrow  night."  Josephine  Dorrance 


20       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

eyed  her  peach  Melba  and  then  pushed  it  reso- 
lutely from  her.  "You  will  wear  your  diamond 
necklace,  of  course?" 

Mrs.  de  Forest  shook  her  head,  and  her  lips 
tightened.  "No.  With  so  many  nouveau  riche 
members  coming  into  the  club  I  decided  that  such 
a  display,  at  a  mere  informal  Hallowe'en  affair, 
would  be  not  only  vulgar,  but  a  bad  example  for 
Alice.  Girls — especially  those  with  no  money  of 
their  own — do  get  such  silly  notions  and  expecta- 
tions !  You  've  no  idea  what  it  is  to  have  a  penni- 
less, spoiled  orphan  niece  on  your  hands!"  Mrs. 
de  Forest  sighed.  "I  had  hoped  that  Alice  would 
be  quite  a  help  to  me — a  sort  of  social  secretary, 
you  know — but  my  poor  sister-in-law  indulged  her 
so,  and  on  positively  nothing,  my  dear,  that  Alice 
takes  everything  quite  for  granted ! ' ' 

The  Farr  rubber  fortune  was  newer  by  two  gen- 
erations than  the  de  Forest  wealth,  and  Mrs.  Dor- 
ranee  quite  enjoyed  the  sensation  her  emeralds 
always  created  at  the  club,  especially  among  the 
lately  admitted  members.  Therefore  she  raised 
her  heavy  brows  slightly  as  she  replied :  "I  don 't 
believe  you  will  be  troubled  with  Miss  Dare  very 
long.  That  nice  Landon  boy  who  is  visiting  the 
Frasers " 

"A  mere  bank  employee  of  Rutherford  Sower- 


THE  HORNET'S  NEST  21 

by's!"  Mrs.  de  Forest  exclaimed.  "I  have  for- 
bidden Alice  to  have  anything  more  to  do  with  him 
than  sheer  courtesy  demands.  After  all  she  is 
my  niece,  and  I  do  not  approve  of  even  a  wealthy, 
mature  woman  marrying  an  indigent  upstart, 
much  less  an  impressionable  girl  like  Alice  with 
her  future  before  her.  She  will  keep  Gerald  Lan- 
don  in  his  place."  With  this  Parthian  shot  Mrs. 
de  Forest  led  .the  way  from  the  dining  room. 

At  that  very  moment  Alice  Dare  was  having 
considerably  more  to  do  with  the  Landon  boy  than 
sheer  courtesy  demanded.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
she  was  seriously  interfering  with  his  driving  of 
the  Erasers'  little  runabout  by  cuddling  her  head 
into  his  shoulder,  and  Gerald  Landon  did  not  seem 
to  object  in  the  least.  They  were  on  a  secluded  road 
several  miles  from  Broadlawns,  making  rapidly 
for  a  little,  old-fashioned  village  and  a  certain 
little  old-fashioned  cottage  on  its  main  street. 

All  at  once  Alice  straightened  in  her  seat  and 
asked  for  the  twentieth  time :  *  *  Oh,  do  you  think 
it  will  be  all  right,  Gerald,  darling?" 

11  Bight  as  rain!"  he  responded  promptly,  avoid- 
ing a  rut  in  the  road  by  the  narrowest  margin. 

"I  don't  know!"  Alice  replied.  "There's  just 
one  person  in  that  club  whom  I  '11  be  afraid  to  face, 
and  that  person  is  the  secretary.  There's  some- 


22       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

thing  odd  about  him,  Gerald;  I  don't  know 
whether  it's  that  shaggy  mop  of  hair  that  he  peers 
out  from  beneath  when  he  asks  one  of  those  funny, 
unexpected  questions,  or  the  way  he  stares  after 
one.  He's  not  disrespectful  at  all,  nor  even  per- 
sonal, and  I  can't  say  that  I  dislike  him ;  he  simply 
makes  me  uncomfortable.  I  wish  I  could  see  his 
eyes  without  that  shade  or  those  heavy-rimmed 
glasses." 

"Oh,  he's  just  an  old  codger  who  has  been  in 
a  rut  always,  dear,  and  country-club  life  is  all  new 
to  him,"  Gerald  replied.  "  Jack  Fraser  seems  to 
think  he  is  clever." 

"So  does  Mr.  Estridge  and — and  Mr.  Sower- 
by,"  Alice  said  in  a  lowered  tone.  "I've  seen 
them  talking  to  him  a  lot. '  ' 

"Well,  I'm  safe  enough  even  if  Sowerby  has 
taken  a  queer  fancy  to  him,"  Gerald  observed. 
"I'm  not  a  member,  you  know,  just  a  guest  of 
the  Frasers,  and  Grant  only  bothers  with  his  club 
accounts  and  ledgers.  Not  a  single  one  of  the 
crowd  will  see  us  until  we  get  back." 

But  the  young  assistant  cashier  of  Sowerby 's 
bank  was  wrong.  The  solitary  occupant  of  a  big, 
high-powered  car,  coming  down  one  of  the  side 
roads,  had  noted  and  recognized  the  couple  in  the 


THE  HORNET'S  NEST  23 

little  runabout,  and  he  gazed  after  them  specula- 
tively  as  he  swung  his  own  machine  back  the  way 
they  had  come,  toward  Broadlawns.  When  he 
neared  the  club,  however,  he  made  a  detour  down 
a  winding  byway  that  was  known  as  the  "Glen 
Road,"  and  here  all  thought  of  the  other  two  was 
driven  from  his  mind  when  he  came  upon  a  second 
couple. 

These  two  people  were  as  much  engrossed  with 
each  other  as  the  first  pair  had  been,  and  they 
were  equally  oblivious  to  his  proximity  as  he 
slowed  down  the  car  to  make  as  little  noise  as  pos- 
sible in  passing  them.  They  were  seated  upon  a 
rustic  bench  half  hidden  behind  a  rock;  the  man 
wore  a  dapper  town  suit  and  the  woman  was 
dressed  in  a  blue  sweater  and  sport  skirt.  Her 
ash-blond  hair  was  conspicuously  fluffy. 

"Fools!"  said  the  occupant  of  the  big  car  as 
he  turned  out  upon  the  highway  again  and  headed 
for  the  club.  "Fools!" 

An  hour  later  Mrs.  Jack  Fraser  emerged  from 
the  caddie  house  and  started  alone  for  the  club 
veranda.  She  was  a  pretty  little  woman  in  the 
late  twenties  with  a  sensible,  humorous  mouth, 
healthily  tanned  skin,  and  wind-blown  brown  hair, 
and  she  walked  with  a  free,  athletic  stride  devoid 


24       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

of  swagger.  As  she  neared  the  veranda  steps  she 
caught  side  of  Ogden  Bowles  and  hailed  him 
cordially. 

"Jack  and  I  have  just  been  around,"  she  said. 
"It  was  such  a  gorgeous  afternoon  that  I  couldn't 
resist  it,  but  I  really  meant  to  call  on  Mrs.  Carter. 
I  heard  that  she  had  been  ill  for  the  last  few  days, 
and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  we've  hardly  seen  her 
here  at  the  club  for  the  past  month." 

Ogden  Bowles  hesitated,  eyeing  her  frank,  smil- 
ing countenance  for  a  moment  as  though  uncertain 
what  to  reply.  Then  he,  too,  smiled. 

"I  am  sure  that  Mrs.  Carter's  indisposition  is 
not  serious.  She  has  promised  to  come  to  the 
Hallowe'en  dance  with  me  to-morrow  night,"  he 
replied.  "Won't  you  come  in  and  let  me  give 
you  a  cup  of  tea,  Mrs.  Fraser?" 

"You  come  in  and  join  us,"  she  suggested  in- 
stead. "All  the  rest  of  the  crowd  are  having  tea 
in  the  foyer." 

The  atmosphere  seemed  more  chilly  indoors 
than  out  in  the  sunshine,  and  a  tiny  fire  had  been 
started  upon  the  hearth.  Rutherford  Sowerby 
had  settled  himself  squarely  before  it,  and  Jack 
Fraser  and  Samuel  Estridge  stood  with  their  el- 
bows on  the  mantel,  deep  in  conversation  with 
him.  The  attorney  appeared  to  have  been  remon- 


THE  HORNET'S  NEST  25 

strating,  but  Sowerby  was  continuing  to  speak  in 
a  loud  voice:  "I  don't  care!  I  tell  you  some- 
thing's got  to  be  done.  Here  it's  been  more  than 
a  month  since  the  affair  happened,  and  what  has 
been  accomplished?  Exactly  nothing!" 

"Look  here,  Rutherford,  unless  you  want  the 
unholy  scandal  that  we  Ve  all  been  trying  to  avoid, 
you'll  talk  lower!"  Estridge  spoke  in  keen,  in- 
cisive tones  with  a  quick  glance  toward  the  bay 
window  where  Mrs.  Fraser  and  Ogden  Bowles  had 
joined  Mrs.  de  Forest  and  Mrs.  Dorrance,  and  it 
was  evident  that  a  bridge  game  was  being 
arranged.  "We've  taken  the  only  possible  step 
under  the  circumstances " 

"Well,  that  step  will  have  to  lead  somewhere 
during  the  next  twenty-four  hours,  Sam,  or  that 
unholy  scandal  you  are  talking  about  is  likely  to 
spread  through  all  creation!"  The  bank  presi- 
dent's retort  was  made  in  a  modulated  voice.  "It 
happened  at  the  Harvest  Dance,  if  you  remember, 
and  to-morrow  night  is  Hallowe'en.  If  the  same 
thing  or  something  like  it  occurs  then  we'll  all  be 
in  a  deuce  of  a  hole ! ' ' 

' '  But  there  are  only  a  few  of  us  who  know,  and 
we  can  all  watch,"  Jack  Fraser  suggested.  He 
was  as  tanned  and  lithe  and  clear-eyed  as  his  wife, 
but  half  a  head  taller,  with  a  look  of  strength  and 


26       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

purposefulness  that  told  of  a  few  added  years 
and  wider  experiences.  Just  now  his  jaw  was  set, 
and  his  gray  eyes  were  stern.  "Don't  think  I'm 
not  taking  this  seriously;  the  scandal  of  such  a 
thing  may  mean  mere  notoriety  for  some  of  us,  but 
actual  ruin  for  the  rest,  particularly  if  the  matter 
is  never  cleared  up." 

" Cleared  up!"  exclaimed  Sowerby.  "It'll  be 
cleared  up,  by  gad,  if  every  member  of  this 
club Oh,  here's  my  wife!" 

But  Maud  Sowerby,  her  fluffy,  ash-blond  hair 
slightly  roughened  by  the  wind,  straightened  her 
blue  sweater  and  merely  nodded  to  the  group  near 
the  fireplace.  Joining  the  others  by  the  bridge 
table,  she  rang  for  the  steward. 

"I  don't  believe  Murdock's  in  on  the  game, 
but  we  can't  be  too  careful  until  we  are  sure," 
Jack  Fraser  spoke  in  a  voice  which  was  scarcely 
above  a  whisper  as  the  steward  passed  with  a 
tea  tray.  "That's  the  worst  of  it!  There  are 
perhaps  half  a  dozen  of  us,  including  some  of  the 
absent  house  committee,  who  know  what  hap- 
pened, but  there's  just  one  member  or  employee  of 
this  club  who  knows  how  it  happened,  and  we 
haven't  the  slightest  clew  to  his  or  her  identity." 

"I  should  say  we  had  too  many!"  Estridge  said 
dryly.  "I  could  have  named  at  least  three  mem- 


THE  HORNET'S  NEST  27 

bers  of  this  club,  on  the  very  day  that  our  investi- 
gation assumed  a  practical  form,  who  to  the 
trained  eye  gave  every  indication  of  guilt.  Now 
it  is  manifestly  impossible  that  they  could  have 
been  in  any  conspiracy,  and  it  is  equally  improb- 
able that  any  of  them  had  a  hand  in  the  affair. 
We'll  have  a  merry  dance  to-morrow  night  if  we 
who  know  continue  to  go  about  glaring  at  each 
other." 

"It'll  be  a  merrier  one  if  the  Harvest  affair 
is  repeated!"  remarked  Sowerby.  "Oh,  I  admit, 
Sam,  that  your  plan  was  the  only  one  we  could 
follow  under  the  circumstances,  but  we  might  have 
done  ten  times  more  with  it  as  I  contended  from 
the  beginning." 

'  *  And  have  everybody  in  the  club,  members  and 
employees  alike,  aware  of  what  we  were  doing?" 
demanded  Estridge.  He  lowered  his  arm  from 
the  mantel,  straightened  himself  and  added  irrele- 
vantly :  "It  is  near  the  first  of  the  month,  and  Grant 
must  have  begun  to  get  his  accounts  ready  to  date 
so  that  he  can  add  without  trouble  the  little  that 
will  come  in  later.  Think  I  '11  go  and  have  a  look 
at  them.  Hello,  Dorrance!" 

But  Philip  Dorrance  seemed  not  to  have  heard 
the  greeting.  He  had  just  entered,  clad  not  in  his 
usual  hectic  sport  regalia,  but  in  one  of  the  dapper 


28       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

business  suits  he  was  in  the  habit  of  wearing  to 
the  offices  of  the  Fair  Rubber  Company.  His  in- 
significantly good-looking  face  was  curiously  white 
and  set  as  he  made  his  way  straight  to  the  bridge 
table. 

Mrs.  Dorrance  was  dummy  at  the  moment,  and 
she  glanced  up  expectantly  from  her  outspread 
cards.  "I  thought  you  might  have  come  out  on 
an  earlier  train,  Philip."  Her  dominant,  almost 
masculine,  tones  carried  to  the  farthermost  cor- 
ners of  the  foyer.  "What  did  Harlier  say  about 
my  emeralds?" 

Dorrance  moistened  his  lips  nervously  and 
shook  his  head.  "You  won't  be  able  to  wear  them 
to-morrow  night,  my  dear  Josephine. ' '  The  reply 
came  with  his  habitual,  conciliatory,  little  cough. 
"You  were  right  about  the  settings;  they  say  at 
Harlier 's  that  the  whole  collection  must  be  thor- 
oughly gone  over." 

With  a  little  exclamation  of  annoyance  Mrs.  Dor- 
rance turned  her  attention  once  more  to  the  game, 
and  Jack  Fraser  remarked  in  an  aside  to  Estridge, 
who  had  lingered:  "So  the  Empress  Josephine 
will  have  to  appear  without  her  crowning  glory 
to-morrow  night !  Perhaps  it  is  just  as  well.  Do 
you  know,  I  think,  if  it  were  not  for  disappoint- 
ing my  wife,  and  the  fact  that  my  brother 


THE  HORNET'S  NEST  29 

is  coming  out,  I'd  stay  in  town  myself  and  estab- 
lish a  perfectly  good,  indestructible  alibi  for  the 
time  of  this  Hallowe'en  Dance." 

"No,  you  don't!"  declared  Sowerby  firmly. 
"We'll  all  stand  or  fall  together,  no  matter  what 
happens;  that's  agreed.  By  the  way,  do  you 
mean  that  brother  of  yours  from  Texas?" 

Fraser  nodded,  and  Sowerby  turned  to  Estridge. 

"Ever  meet  him?"  he  asked.  "He's  an  inter- 
esting chap;  we've  had  some  dealings  with  him 
at  the  bank.  He  owns  large  oil  interests  down 
near  the  border.  Older  than  you,  isn't  he,  Jack? 
Does  he  still  ride  that  hobby  of  his?" 

Jack  Fraser  laughed.  "Yes.  Ralph  is  four 
years  my  senior,  but  he  is  still  a  perfect  kid  about 
collecting  queer  old  weapons  of  all  kinds,  par- 
ticularly firearms."  He,  too,  turned  to  the  law- 
yer. "  I  '11  be  glad  to  have  you  meet  him,  for  you 
may  be  interested  in  hearing  him  rave  about  his 
collection.  He  really  has  some  of  the  most  curi- 
ous man-killing  instruments,  and  not  necessarily 
ancient  either,  that  were  ever  devised  by  murder- 
ous-minded cranks.  Heaven  knows  where  he  picks 
them  up  around  the  globe !  But  we  were  not  dis- 
cussing murder,  thank  goodness!  At  the  worst 
we  may  be  in  for  a  scandal,  though  possibly  a 
ruinous  one." 


30       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

Samuel  Estridge  had  nodded  politely  at  the  sug- 
gestion that  he  meet  the  younger  man's  brother, 
but  there  was  a  sudden  tenseness  of  his  easy  pose, 
and  the  other  two,  following  his  gaze,  saw  that  it 
was  fixed  upon  the  door  of  the  house  secretary's 
little  box  of  an  office.  Philip  Dorrance  had  strolled 
over  to  it  with  an  elaborate  air  of  unconcern  and 
disappeared  within,  but,  while  the  three  men  by 
the  fireplace  watched,  he  came  hurriedly  out  again, 
and,  fairly  stumbling  in  his  haste,  made  his  way 
to  the  veranda  door  and  went  out. 

"By  Jove,  did  you  see  that!"  Fraser  exclaimed 
beneath  his  breath.  ' '  I  wonder  if  the  little  bounder 
has  just  discovered  that  he  has  overdrawn  his 
allowance  for  this  month  and  is  afraid  to  tell  his 
wife!" 

"Murdock!"  Sowerby  called  to  the  steward, 
who  had  paused  a  short  distance  away  to  remove 
some  empty  glasses.  "Bring  us  three  of  those 
devitalized  drinks  of  yours.  Is  Mr.  Grant  in  his 
office?" 

"Yes,  sir.  No,  sir,  Mr.  Grant  went  out  just  a 
few  minutes  ago;  I  don't  know  where,  sir." 

He  glided  noiselessly  away  upon  his  errand,  and 
Sowerby  turned  to  the  others.  "You  see?  Dor- 
rance was  trying  to  find  Grant,  not  leaving  him 


THE  HORNET'S  NEST  31 

after  an  unsatisfactory  interview.    We're  getting 
as  gossipy  as  a  pack  of  old  women!" 

The  glances  of  Fraser  and  Estridge  met,  but 
they  said  nothing  until  the  steward  returned  with 
three  tall  glasses  upon  a  tray. 

"Murdock" — it  was  the  attorney  who  spoke — 
"do  you  recall  a  brief  conversation  I  had  with  you 
on  the  first  day  that  Mr.  Grant  took  over  his 
duties?" 

The  steward  placed  the  glasses  upon  a  table 
before  he  replied:  "Yes,  sir.  I  have  given  Mr. 
Grant  all  the  assistance  in  my  power,  sir." 

"As  I  not  only  reminded  you,  but  explained  to 
him,  you  have  been  with  the  club  a  long  time  and 
are  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  books,"  Estridge 
pursued.  "I  have  no  doubt  that  Mr.  Grant  was 
glad  to  turn  over  a  great  many  of  the  minor 
accounts  to  you?" 

Although  his  last  words  were  a  statement  the 
inflection  made  them  so  unmistakably  a  question 
that  Murdock  realized  the  need  of  a  reply,  yet 
once  more  he  hesitated  respectfully. 

"Well,  sir,  I  really  didn't  know  all  about  the 
books,  even  in  Mr.  Martin's  time,  only  the  club 
accounts  that  have  always  been  in  my  hands,  and, 
since  I  am  just  the  steward,  I  suppose  Mr.  Grant, 


32       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

being  new,  felt  personally  responsible.  He — he 
seems  to  be  very  careful  and  conscientious  I 
should  say,  sir." 

There  was  silence,  save  for  an  occasional  mur- 
mur from  the  bridge  players,  as  Murdock  disap- 
peared again  within  the  pantry,  but  a  moment 
later  there  came  the  rattle  and  clatter  of  a  dropped 
tray. 

"Confound  that  steward!"  Sowerby  slammed 
down  his  glass.  "Did  you  hear  that?  No  wonder 
Grant  doesn't  want  him  fussing  about  the  books! 
He's  getting  more  careless  every  day.  I've  always 
said  it  was  a  mistake  to  keep  any  club  attendant 
too  long!" 

Samuel  Estridge  smiled.  "I  told  you  a  little 
while  ago  that,  on  the  very  day  our  investigation 
assumed  a  practical  form,  I  could  have  named 
three  members  of  the  club  who  gave  every  indica- 
tion of  separate  guilt  of  some  sort,  or  at  least  a 
guilty  conscience.  We  were  only  looking  for  one, 
but  I  could  now  name  at  least  five  persons,  any 
one  of  whom — if  the  other  four  were  eliminated — 
might  be  seriously  suspected.  Gentlemen,  do  you 
know  what  our  well-meant  efforts  have  stirred  up 
in  this  peaceful  little  community?  A  hornet's 
nest,  and  Heaven  knows  what  will  happen  before 
we  can  stamp  it  out!" 


CHAPTER  III 

UNDER  THE   DEAGON    LANTERN 

DROADLAWNS  was  glowing  with  strings 
U  of  varicolored  lanterns.  They  were  hung 
from  tree  to  tree  and  bobbing  grotesquely  in  the 
night  wind  which  had  turned  soft  and  balmy  with 
the  fickle  mellowness  of  coming  Indian  summer. 
Nearer  the  veranda  the  rows  of  motors,  parked 
in  a  semicircle  on  the  driveway,  sent  the  glare  of 
their  lamps  out  into  the  darkness,  and  the  club- 
house itself  was  ablaze  with  lights  and  throbbing 
with  the  syncopated  melodies  from  the  alternating 
string  orchestra  and  jazz  band. 

The  far  corners  of  the  veranda  itself  had  been 
left  discreetly  in  shadow,  with  only  a  bobbing  lan- 
tern here  and  there,  and,  in  the  brief  intervals 
between  dances,  fluffily  gowned  and  somberly 
coated  figures  appeared  for  a  time  and  then  van- 
ished again  within  doors,  leaving  only  an  occa- 
sional couple  here  and  there,  too  absorbed  to  be 
aware  that  the  music  had  started  once  more. 

33 


34       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

Toward  the  hour  before  midnight,  however,  the 
treacherous  softness  of  the  air  sharpened,  the 
wind  veered  to  the  north  and  rose,  and  the  sting  of 
frost  drove  even  the  hardiest  and  most  persever- 
ing of  the  sentimental  couples  to  the  shelter  of  the 
conservatory.  There,  behind  a  bank  of  huge 
chrysanthemums,  a  dapper  young  man  in  fault- 
less evening  attire  strove  vainly  to  persuade  a 
pretty,  colorless,  doll-like  little  woman  to  seat 
herself  on  a  rustic  bench  beside  him. 

"It's  no  use,  Dorry!"  There  was  a  note  of 
pettishness  in  her  voice.  "I  came  because  you 
said  that  you  had  something  to  tell  me  that  I 
ought  to  hear,  but  please  hurry!  I  can't  stay  a 
minute ! ' ' 

"You've  got  to  hear  me  out,  Maud."  Phil  Dor- 
ranee  spoke  with  strange  doggedness,  and  there 
was  an  unusual  light  in  his  slightly  prominent 
blue  eyes.  "You've  played  with  me  all  summer, 
you've  led  me  to  believe  that  you  were  ready  to 
chuck  everything,  and " 

*  *  I  thought  we  had  all  this  out  yesterday  on  the 
Glen  Road!"  Maud  Sowerby's  tones  were  un- 
mistakably cold  now  and  contemptuous.  "I  played 
about  with  you  simply  because  we  were  both 
bored,  and  you  know  it.  I'm  not  going  to  stay 
here  any  longer  and  take  the  risk  of  being  caught 


UNDER  THE  DRAGON  LANTERN   35 

in  a  tete-a-tete  with  you,  Dorry.  I  thought  that 
what  you  had  to  say  to  me  would  be  something 
new — something,  perhaps,  connected  with  my  own 
protection  and  not  your  feelings." 

He  winced  at  the  palpable  sneer,  and  the  lips 
beneath  his  small  mustache  curled  viciously. 
"  Perhaps  what  I  had  to  say  concerned  both,  but, 
since  you  have  become  suddenly  so  discreet,  I 
will  not  mention  it.  Shall  I  take  you  back  now 
to  your  husband?" 

She  looked  at  him,  and  the  sneer  gave  place  to 
a  whimper.  "What  is  it,  Dorry?  Do  you  mean 
that  we  are — are  both  going  to  get  into  trouble? 
We've  only  carried  on  a  mild  sort  of  flirtation, 
as  you  know,  but  my  husband  is  a  brute,  and  your 
wife  is  a  cat,  and  between  them,  if  they  wanted  to, 
they  might  take  from  us  all  that  we  have  gained 
by  the  years  during  which  we  have  put  up  with 
them!"  Her  voice  rose  to  a  subdued  wail.  "I 
couldn't  give  up  my  lovely  house  and  my  cars 
and  all  my  luxuries  and  go  back  to  the  typewriter 
again.  I  couldn't!" 

"Suppose  I  hadn't  taken  it  for  a  mild  sort  of 
flirtation?"  Phil  asked  grimly.  "Suppose  I'd 
burned  both  our  bridges  ?  What  then  ? ' ' 

Her  anger  flamed  up  anew.  "You  couldn't  burn 
mine!"  she  declared  through  set  teeth.  "You 


36       THE  TBIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

haven't  even  a  scrap  of  a  silly,  sentimental  note 
from  me,  and  if  you've  gotten  into  any  stupid 
mess  no  one  can  say  I  had  anything  to  do  with  it. 
You  '11  have  to  get  out  of  it  the  best  way  you  can. ' ' 

"Is  that  your  last  word,  Maud?"  he  demanded 
slowly,  with  a  sort  of  deadly  earnestness  which 
came  oddly  from  his  weak,  almost  effeminate  lips. 
"I  warn  you  I  am  more  desperate  than  you  know. 
You  meant  that?" 

"I  did.  I've  been  foolish,  perhaps,  but  not 
wicked,  and  I  intend  to  protect  myself  no  matter 
what  happens.  Do  you  hear — no  matter  what 
happens ! ' ' 

Phil  Dorrance  drew  himself  erect  and  bowed 
with  a  touch  of  real  dignity.  "Shall  we  return 
now  to  the  ballroom?  Under  the  circumstances,  it 
would  be  useless  for  us  to  continue  this  conversa- 
tion, and,  as  you  say,  a  further  tete-a-tete  with 
me  may  prove  a  risk  for  you." 

She  glanced  at  him  for  a  moment  in  mute  ques- 
tioning, then  shrugged  and  turned  toward  the 
door.  Neither  of  them  had  noticed  a  younger 
couple  who  stole  in  almost  guiltily  and  proceeded 
to  the  farther  end  of  the  conservatory.  Strangely 
enough  the  girl's  first  words  were  suggestive  of 
those  of  Maud  Sowerby,  but  with  a  very  different 
intonation. 


UNDER  THE  DRAGON  LANTERN   37 

"Oh,  Gerald,  we  must  hurry!  We  can't  stay 
a  minute !  Auntie  is  holding  court  in  her  corner 
as  usual,  but,  if  she  discovers  that  I'm  in  here 
with  you  after  all  her  injunctions,  there'll  be  a 
•  dreadful  scene  when  we  get  home.  How — how  did 
Mr.  Sowerby  treat  you  at  the  bank  to-day?" 

"The  same  as  usual — just  as  though  I  didn't 
exist."  Gerald  Landon  shrugged.  "It  is  only 
out  here,  you  know,  dearest,  that  he  grants  me 
more  than  a  passing  nod.  We're  safe  enough, 
Alice,  darling." 

* '  Don 't ! "  She  shrank  away  from  him.  '  *  Sup- 
pose somebody  heard  you  call  me  that  and  told 
auntie,  and  she  went  to  him!  He  doesn't  like  her, 
but  you  know  what  influence  she  has  out  here. 
If  they  both  began  investigating " 

"There  goes  that  beastly  music,  anc}  I've  got  to 
haul  Mrs.  Dorrance  around  the  floor!"  Gerald 
said  gloomily,  then  with  a  swift  movement  he 
gathered  the  girl  into  his  arms. 

She  yielded  to  his  kiss,  but  the  next  instant  she 
freed  herself  and  placed  a  flowering  shrub  be- 
tween them.  "Gerald!  How  could  you!  Some 
one  might  have  seen!  There's  something  strange 
going  on.  I  know  it!  Something  that  we 
don't  understand,  but  it  frightens  me!  Did  you 
see  that  notice  on  the  bulletin  board  outside  the 


38       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

billiard  room,  that  any  member  or  guest  of  the 
club,  desiring  to  leave  before  the  final  dance, 
would  kindly  see  Mr.  Estridge  first?  I  have  heard 
heaps  of  people  discussing  it.  Do  you  suppose  it 
means  a  special  meeting  of  some  kind?  That  Mr. 
Grant  isn't  in  his  office  to-night!" 

"I  couldn't  help  it,  Alice.  No  one  saw,  and  I 
don't  know  why  you  keep  bothering  about  that 
house  secretary.  The  last  I  saw  of  him  he  was 
standing  right  under  the  dragon  lantern  on  the 
veranda,  right  in  front  of  that  wide  window  which 
faces  across  the  foyer  to  the  stairs  and  the  two 
little  offices — his  and  Murdock's — on  either  side 
of  the  balustrade.  He  was  watching  the  dancing, 
and  I  felt  kind  of  sorry  for  him,  poor  chap,  being 
out  of  it  all.  And  don't  you  worry  your  darling 
little  head  about  old  Estridge  and  his  bulletins; 
there  never  was  a  house  committee  on  a  country 
club  yet  that  didn't  try  to  show  its  importance 
on  every  possible  occasion.  If  it  had  been  any- 
thing serious  Jack  Fraser  would  have  told  me 
about  it,  since  he  put  me  up  here.  But  we  must 
hurry!  Here  comes  Ralph  Fraser  for  you  now." 

Jack  Fraser 's  brother,  from  Texas,  of  whom 
he  and  Rutherford  Sowerby  had  spoken  on  the 
previous  day,  was  a  big,  broad-shouldered  man 
of  thirty-five.  His  bluff,  hearty,  outspoken  man- 


UNDEE  THE  DEAGON  LANTEEN   39 

ner  hinted  at  one  who  knew  more  of  boom  towns 
than  ultra-smart  suburban  colonies,  and  his  keen 
eyes  took  in  the  situation  between  the  two  at  a 
glance. 

"Look  here,  Miss  Dare,  if  I'm  butting  in  we'll 
just  forget  all  about  this  dance, ' '  he  began.  * '  I  'm 
rotten  at  it,  anyhow — can't  lift  my  hulking  feet 
off  the  floor." 

1  *  Oh,  no ! "  It  was  Gerald  who  spoke,  but  Alice 
had  seized  upon  the  newcomer  almost  feverishly. 
She  feared  that  he  had  divined  their  attachment 
and  might  blurt  out  to  others  that  an  engagement 
existed  between  them.  Gerald  added  hurriedly: 
"I  have  this  dance  with  Mrs.  Dorrance,  and  was 
only  waiting  until  you  came  for  Miss  Dare.  See 
you  both  later!" 

He  bowed,  and  then  fairly  bolted  from  the 
conservatory.  In  addition  to  the  ballroom  the 
great,  round  entrance  hall  had  been  given  over 
to  the  dancers,  forcing  the  "old  guard"  to  the 
billiard  room  except  for  one  corner,  where  Mrs. 
de  Forest  sat  majestically  with  a  group  of  syco- 
phants and  social  climbers  about  her. 

Gerald  noted  with  relief  that  she  was  still  there 
and  holding  forth  to  those  who  seemingly  hung 
upon  her  words;  then  he  turned  to  survey  the 
scene  for  the  partner  for  whom  he  had  come  so 


40       THE  TBIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

tardily.    Phil  Dorrance  came  hurriedly  up  to  him. 

"I  say,  old  man,  have  you  seen  anything  of  that 
chap  Grant?  He's  not  in  his  office." 

"He's  out  on  the  veranda  there,  I  believe." 
Gerald  added  with  hasty  mendacity:  "I've  been 
looking  everywhere  for  your  wife;  I  have  this 
dance  with  her,  but  I  can't  find  her." 

"Can't  you?"  Phil  responded  nervously  in  an 
absent  tone,  and  the  other  noticed  all  at  once  how 
haggard  he  seemed  to  have  grown.  "I  haven't 
looked  her  up  myself  since  my  last  dance  with  her 
an  hour  ago,  but  I  suppose  you'll  find  her  around 
here  somewhere.  Grant  is  on  the  veranda,  you 
say?" 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  was  off,  while 
Gerald  gazed  after  him  for  a  moment  in  amaze- 
ment. What  could  have  been  the  matter  with  Dor- 
rance? There  had  been  an  air  of  suppressed  ex- 
citement and  strained  anxiety  about  him;  such  as 
he  had  observed  on  men  during  a  run  on  the  bank. 
This  troubled  mien  was  utterly  foreign  to  Dor- 
ranee's  usual  complacently  self-satisfied  attitude. 
And  what  could  he  want  with  Grant  ?  The  house 
secretary's  office  always  remained  closed  during 
a  dance  or  other  festivity,  the  steward  attending 
to  anything  necessary  from  his  own  office. 


UNDER  THE  DRAGON  LANTERN   41 

Gerald  glanced  toward  it  across  the  hall  on  the 
other  side  of  the  staircase  and  saw  Murdock 
seated  behind  his  desk.  The  steward  was  watch- 
ing the  dancers  from  beneath  respectfully  low- 
ered eyelids.  Why  hadn't  Dorrance  gone  to  Mur- 
dock if  he  had  wanted  anything? 

At  that  moment  Mrs.  Dorrance  came  down  the 
staircase  and  approached  him.  * '  So  sorry  to  have 
kept  you  waiting,  Mr.  Landon,"  she  murmured, 
forestalling  the  apology  which  Gerald  himself  had 
been  about  to  make.  ' '  Such  a  stupid  accident !  I 
had  to  have  my  gown  mended.  Mr.  Bowles  is 
usually  a  perfect  dancer,  but  he  must  have  an 
attack  of  nerves  or  something  to-night.  We  were 
passing  that  open  window  there,  where  the  dragon 
lantern  is  swinging  outside,  when  he  stumbled 
and  his  foot  caught  in  my  skirt.  Of  course  I  don't 
like  to  say  anything,  but  I  think  the  use  to  which 
the  men  put  their  lockers  these  days  is  a  disgrace 
to  the  club." 

"Shall  we  dance?"  Gerald  asked  diplomati- 
cally. "Elsie — Mrs.  Fraser — told  me  that  Mr. 
Bowles  was  bringing  Mrs.  Carter  to  the  dance  to- 
night. Have  you  seen  her?" 

"Yes."  Mrs.  Dorrance  moved  heavily  off  in 
step  with  him,  carefully  conserving  her  breath. 


"She  must  have  been  really  ill.  I  thought  it  a 
pose — -didn't  bother  to  call — but  she  looks  like  a 
ghost.  Red-headed  women  always  need  high 
color,  or  low  lights." 

Midnight  was  approaching,  and  the  scurrying 
waiters  were  adding  the  last  touches  to  the 
supper  tables  in  the  restaurant.  It  had  become 
the  custom  of  the  club,  since  the  war,  to  hold  an 
ordinary  informal  dance  on  this  evening.  Previ- 
ously it  had  been  given  over  to  a  masked  ball 
which  was  rivaled  in  gayety  only  by  the  ante- 
bellum Election  Night  and  New  Year's  Eve  affairs. 
Now,  exactly  at  midnight,  all  the  lights  were  to 
be  extinguished  except  a  swinging  lantern  or  two 
outside,  and,  although  no  appropriate  toast  could 
be  drunk,  a  simple  song  of  long  ago  would  be  sung 
by  the  assembled  company  in  memory  of  those 
who  would  return  no  more  to  Broadlawns.  Sup- 
per would  follow,  and  then  dancing  would  be  re- 
sumed for  an  hour  or  two,  but  the  fun  would  be 
more  subdued,  and  the  party  break  up  long  before 
the  dawn. 

More  than  one  pair  of  eyes  sought  the  tall  clock 
in  the  corner  as  the  witching  hour  approached.  A 
tall,  willowy  woman,  who  entered  from  the  ball- 
room, leaning  on  Ogden  Bowles '  arm,  looked  solic- 
itously in  the  direction  of  the  clock.  Her  face 


UNDER  THE  DRAGON  LANTERN   43 

was  waxen,  and  her  large,  topaz-glinting  eyes 
were  deeply  circled  by  not  unbecoming  blue 
shadows. 

"Perhaps  I  should  not  have  urged  you  to 
dance, "  the  broker  murmured  solicitously  as  she 
paused,  swaying  for  a  moment  with  one  hand  at 
her  slim  throat.  "I  hope  it  did  not  tire  you  too 
much.  Shall  we  sit  out  the  rest  in  the  conserva- 
tory?" 

Mrs.  Carter  shook  her  head,  and  her  hand 
slipped  down  and  rested  upon  her  breast  as  she 
replied:  "No,  thanks,  I  am  not  tired,  but  just 
a  little  dizzy,  I  think.  Let  us  go  out  to  the  ver- 
anda for  a  few  minutes  and  get  a  breath  of  air. ' ' 

"You  won't  take  cold?"  he  asked.  "Can't  I 
get  your  wrap  for  you?  You  left  it  in  the  down- 
stairs cloak  room,  I  think." 

"If  you  will  be  so  good."  She  smiled  faintly 
at  him.  l *  I  will  wait  for  you  in  the  conservatory. ' ' 

Yet,  when  he  had  departed  upon  his  errand, 
Mrs.  Carter  waited  only  until  he  had  disappeared, 
then  moved  swiftly  over  to  the  entrance  door  and 
out  into  the  chilly  obscurity  of  the  veranda.  At 
first  she  blinked  in  the  sudden  transition  from  the 
brilliantly  lighted  foyer  and  could  see  nothing  but 
the  faint,  swaying  blur  of  the  lanterns.  Then  she 
beheld  a  stocky,  bareheaded  figure  with  a  shock 


44       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

of  heavy  hair,  standing  over  by  the  railing  with 
his  back  to  her. 

Save  for  his  presence,  the  veranda  was  deserted, 
and  Mrs.  Carter  halted,  but  at  that  moment  the 
music  of  the  one-step  ceased,  and  the  crunch  of 
footsteps  on  the  gravel  of  the  driveway  was 
plainly  audible.  She  moved  over  noiselessly  to  the 
railing,  and  had  almost  reached  the  unconscious 
figure  before  she  spoke:  "Good  evening,  Mr. 
Grant." 

"Ah,  Mrs. — er — Carter!"  The  house  secretary 
turned  deferentially  and  peered  at  her  through 
his  heavy-rimmed  glasses  as  he  bowed.  "I 
had  heard  some  of  the  other  members  say  that  you 
were  ill,  but  I'm  glad  that  your  indisposition  has 
passed." 

"Thank  you,"  she  responded  quietly.  "It  was 
nothing  serious.  Ever  since  I  came  North  again 
to  live  I  have  found  the  first  change  from  summer 
to  autumn  very  trying,  but  I  have  no  doubt  I 
shall  grow  accustomed  to  it  in  time." 

"You  have  lived  in  the  Southwest?"  he  asked 
quickly. 

"No,  in  North  Carolina."  She  spoke  with  a 
trace  of  surprise  in  her  well-bred,  level  tones,  and 
in  the  shadows  the  hand  upon  her  breast  tensed 


UNDER  THE  DRAGON  LANTERN   45 

suddenly  and  then  dropped  to  her  side.  "What 
part  of  the  Southwest  were  you  told  that  I  came 
from,  Mr.  Grant?" 

' '  No  one  has  mentioned  your  name,  Mrs.  Carter. 
When  you  spoke  of  coming  North  again  I  thought 
instinctively  of  Dallas,  Texas.  You  were  not 
there  by  any  chance  about  three  years  ago?" 

"I  have  never  been  in  Texas  in  my  life."  Mrs. 
Carter  laughed  in  half-bored  amusement,  but  her 
laughter  ended  in  a  little  shiver  as  a  cutting  sweep 
of  the  night  breeze  sent  the  dry  leaves  eddying 
along  the  drive.  "Did  you  fancy  that  you  had 
seen  me  there,  or  some  one,  perhaps,  of  the  same 
name?  I  do  not  think  my  late  husband  had  any 
connections  in  Dallas. ' ' 

"No."  Mr.  Grant  shook  his  head.  "It  was 
not  the  name,  although  that  of  the  lady  you  re- 
semble sounded  very  like  yours.  I  saw  her  under 
circumstances  which  tended  to  impress  her  upon 
my  memory,  and,  if  you  will  pardon  me  for  being 
personal,  Mrs.  Carter,  when  I  first  saw  you  here 
at  the  club  it  was  as  though  she  herself  had  walked 
into  my  little  office." 

"How  interesting!"  Mrs.  Carter  laughed  again 
with  a  slight  note  of  irony  and  turned  as  Ogden 
Bowles  emerged  upon  the  veranda  with  her  wrap. 


46       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

"I  would  feel  more  curiosity  as  to  the  identity 
of  this  mysterious  double  of  mine,  Mr.  Grant, 
were  she  not  about  the  fiftieth  of  whom  I  have 
been  told.  There  must  be  something  about  auburn 
hair  which  makes  all  its  possessors  seem  akin." 

"If  I  dared  I  should  scold  you  for  coming  out 
here  without  waiting  for  your  cape,  Mrs.  Carter ! ' ' 
There  was  playful  concern  in  Ogden  Bowies'  tone. 
"I  looked  for  you  in  the  conservatory,  but  found 
no  one  there  except  little  Miss  Dare  and  Ralph 
Fraser.  Evening,  Grant!" 

The  house  secretary  returned  the  salutation, 
and  then,  as  the  music  started  again,  he  moved 
away  and  took  up  his  stand  once  more  in  the  win- 
dow beneath  the  dragon  lantern. 

Mrs.  Carter,  instead  of  permitting  her  escort  to 
place  her  wrap  about  her  shoulders,  took  it  from 
him  and  laid  it  over  her  arm. 

"You  would  rather  dance!"  Bowles  asked. 
"This  is  the  last  before  midnight,  you  know,  but 
I  did  not  think  you  felt  up  to  it." 

' '  I  don 't. ' '  Mrs.  Carter  smiled  wanly.  ' '  You  '11 
forgive  me,  won't  you,  if  I  run  away  to  the  dress- 
ing room  upstairs  and  rest  for  a  few  minutes?  I'll 
join  you  in  the  foyer  after  the  singing  is  over 
and  the  lights  go  up." 

"As  my  lady  pleases,"  he  replied  with  a  dar- 


UNDER  THE  DEAGON  LANTERN   47 

ingly  tender  note  in  his  tones.  "You  will  find  me 
waiting  for  you  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs." 

At  the  moment  before  the  music  struck  up  Ralph 
Fraser,  in  the  conservatory,  was  asking  in  a  curi- 
ously detached  tone:  "Who  is  the  Mrs.  Carter 
for  whom  Mr.  Bowles  was  inquiring  just  now?  I 
don't  believe  I  have  met  her." 

"She's  that  tall,  awfully  pretty,  red-haired 
woman  he  brought  to  the  dance  to-night,"  Alice 
Dare  replied.  "Surely  you  must  have  seen  her; 
she  is  so  striking  looking  that  she  quite  puts  every 
one  else  in  the  shade,*  although  she  never  seems 
to  make  the  slightest  effort  to  do  so." 

"So  she  is  Mrs.  Carter."  Fraser  paused  and 
then  added :  "I  noticed  her  when  they  came,  but 
only  because  there  seemed  to  be  something  oddly 
familiar  about  her  that  I  couldn't  place.  Is  she 
a  resident  of  the  neighborhood?" 

"Yes.  She  came  from  the  South  somewhere 
about  two  years  ago  and  purchased  the  Horton 
cottage.  Don't  you  think  the  way  she  wears  her 
hair  drawn  over  her  ears  makes  her  look  posi- 
tively saintly?"  Alice  demanded  with  girlish 
enthusiasm.  "Not  another  woman  at  Broad- 
lawns  would  dare  attempt  it !  I  think  that  is  one 
reason  why  they  are  catty  to  her — all  except  Mrs. 
Jack  Fraser — but  she  is  so  sweet  she  never  seems 


48       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

to  notice  it.  Oh,  here  comes  your  brother  for  me 
now,  and  you  have  this  dance  with  Mrs.  Jack, 
haven't  you?" 

Gerald  Landon,  having  thankfully  relinquished 
Mrs.  Dorrance  to  her  husband,  appeared  hopefully 
in  the  door  of  the  conservatory.  As  Alice  passed 
with  Jack  Fraser  she  gave  him  the  coolest  of 
little  nods,  conscious  that  her  aunt's  sharp  eyes 
were  upon  her  from  her  stronghold  in  the  corner 
of  the  foyer. 

Gerald  hovered  disconsolately  in  the  doorway, 
and  once  again  his  gaze  traveled  idly  out  over  the 
scene.  The  orchestra  jazzed  its  maddest  melody, 
and  the  hands  of  the  tall  clock  crept  nearer,  minute 
by  minute,  to  twelve.  Waiters  still  dodged  hur- 
riedly between  the  dancers,  with  the  final  articles 
for  the  supper  room;  Murdock,  the  steward,  had 
risen  behind  his  desk  and  was  reaching  over  with 
a  golf  stick  or  cane  as  though  to  intercept  one  of 
them;  all  at  once  the  merry  pandemonium  ceased 
abruptly  in  the  middle  of  a  bar,  the  laughing,  chat- 
tering voices  died,  and  in  the  sudden  silence  the 
silvery  chimes  of  midnight  sounded  from  the 
clock.  As  they  rang  out  upon  the  stillness  the 
lights  dimmed  to  a  dull  orange  glow,  and  with  the 
twelfth  note  they  went  out.  Only  the  weird  glim- 


UNDER  THE  DRAGON  LANTERN   49 

jner  of  the  dragon  lantern  on  the  veranda  lighted 
the  scene.  The  dancers  stood  motionless,  and 
softly  there  pulsed  out  upon  the  air  the  throbbing 
tones  of  the  violins  in  the  first  notes  of  "Auld 
Lang  Syne." 

Gently,  with  the  tenderness  of  reminiscence, 
voices  took  it  up  here  and  there,  swelling  as  they 
were  gradually  augmented  by  others  in  the  well- 
known  refrain: 

11  'Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot — '  " 

A  sharp  report  crackling  across  the  wide  foyer 
brought  the  music  to  an  abrupt  halt.  Almost  si- 
multaneously with  it  a  woman  screamed,  and  then 
there  came  a  choking  cry  and  a  hideous,  slithering 
sound,  followed  by  a  heavy  thud  from  somewhere 
outside. 

"Lights!"  Ralph  Fraser's  quick,  authoritative 
tones  broke  the  instant  of  strained  silence,  and, 
after  a  fumbling  interval,  the  foyer  and  then  the 
whole  lower  floor  of  the  clubhouse  burst  into 
effulgence. 

That  broke  the  tension,  and  every  one  crowded 
eagerly  forward  in  the  wake  of  Ralph  Fraser,  who 
had  started  for  the  veranda  in  the  direction 
from  which  the  cry  and  dull  sound  of  a  fall  had 
come.  But,  in  advance  of  all  the  others,  Samuel 


50       THE  TEIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

Estridge  passed  Mrs.  Carter,  where  she  had  halted 
at  the  foot  of  the  staircase.  The  steward  bent  for 
a  moment  beneath  his  desk,  and  then  vaulted  over 
it  as  the  attorney  reached  the  veranda  door. 

After  one  look  Estridge  turned  to  Ralph  Fraser, 
at  his  elbow.  "Back!"  he  exclaimed.  "Keep  the 
women  back!" 

But  it  was  too  late.  The  onrush  had  been  too 
strong  to  be  stemmed,  and  men  and  women  to- 
gether swarmed  out  upon  the  veranda.  Beneath 
the  dragon  lantern,  before  the  open  window  which 
looked  in  upon  the  foyer,  something  lay  stretched 
full  length  upon  the  floor.  It  was  a  man's  stocky 
form,  and  there  seemed  something  strangely  fa- 
miliar and  yet  unfamiliar  about  it.  He  was  obvi- 
ously a  young  man,  scarcely  in  his  thirties,  with 
wide-open,  staring  dark  eyes  and  sleek  black  hair. 
Under  the  swaying  light  of  the  lantern  it  seemed 
that  he  leered  horribly  at  them. 

"Who  is  it?  What  has  happened  to  him?"  a 
voice  demanded  sharply.  And  then  they  all  saw. 

Beside  the  still  head  there  lay  a  crushed  and 
twisted  pair  of  heavy-rimmed  glasses  and  a  wig 
of  coarse,  sandy  hair,  while  upon  the  breast  a 
splotch  of  crimson  had  widened  slowly,  and  a  tiny 
rivulet  trickled  down  from  it  to  the  floor. 


UNDER  THE  DRAGON  LANTERN   51 

" Ladies  and  gentlemen/'  Samuel  Estridge 
turned  to  the  huddled,  horror-stricken  group  be- 
hind him,  *  *  it  is  the  man  whom  you  knew  as  James 
Grant,  our  recently  acquired  house  secretary.  He 
has  been  shot!" 


CHAPTEE  IV 

THE    GLISTENING    STRAND 

TT  was  Murdock,  the  steward,  who  first  found 
•*•  his  voice.  " Grant's  shot,'*  he  said,  and  ad- 
vanced excitedly,  brandishing  the  golf  stick  which 
he  had  stooped  behind  his  desk  to  pick  up  the 
instant  before  he  vaulted  over.  "Who  did  it,  sir? 
He's  not " 

Jack  Fraser  and  Ogden  Bowles  were  beside 
Estridge,  who  bent  over  the  body,  and  the  former 
replied  briefly:  "I'm  afraid  so.  Ralph!" 

But  his  brother,  after  hearing  the  alarm,  seemed 
for  the  moment  to  have  disappeared,  and  Estridge, 
rising,  took  command  of  the  situation. 

"Jack,  jump  in  your  car  and  drive  as  fast  as 
you  can  for  Doctor  Fellowes."  He  drew  the 
younger  man  aside  for  a  moment;  then,  as  the 
latter  nodded  in  comprehension  and  dashed  head- 
long down  the  veranda  steps,  he  returned  to  the 
terror-stricken  group.  "The  rest  of  you  go  in- 
side, please;  let  no  one  leave  the  club.  Murdock, 

52 


THE  GLISTENING  STRAND  53 

round  up  all  the  waiters  and  cooks  and  other  at- 
tendants, and  see  that  they  are  kept  under  guard 
in  the  billiard  room.  Bowles,  would  you  mind 
going  with  Murdock  to  see  that  they  are  all  de- 
tained? Landon,  call  Rutherford  Sowerby,  will 
you?" 

"Who  is  this  man,  anyway?"  Phil  Dorrance's 
voice  fairly  squeaked  in  his  excitement.  "Why 
was  he  here  disguised  like  that?" 

No  one  paid  any  heed  to  him,  however.  Doctor 
Fellowes  was  the  general  practitioner  for  the 
Broadlawns  colony,  and  he  was  the  county  coroner 
as  well.  There  had  been  a  grave  significance  in 
Estridge's  manner  after  his  examination  of  the 
body,  and  no  doubt  was  left  as  to  the  grim  capacity 
in  which  the  physician's  presence  was  required. 

"I  am  here."  Rutherford  Sowerby 's  deep 
growl  sounded  close  at  hand,  and  he  limped  pain- 
fully forward  as  the  rest,  in  obedience  to  Es- 
tridge's command,  retreated  within  doors.  Here 
Mrs.  Sowerby  created  a  counter  diversion  by 
fainting. 

"Well,  Rutherford,  somebody  has  done  for  our 
man."  The  attorney  turned  to  the  other.  "Jack 
Fraser  is  the  only  member  of  the  house  committee 
present  to-night  besides  ourselves,  and  I've  sent 
him  for  the  coroner.  I've  also  seen  to  it  that  no 


54       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

one — member,  guest,  or  club  attendant — leaves 
before  they  are  officially  permitted  to  do  so." 

''Humph!  Locked  the  stable  door  after  the 
horse  was  stolen,  have  you!"  Sowerby  stood 
gazing  grimly  down  at  the  body.  "I  heard  the 
shot,  but  I  thought  it  was  a  bursting  automobile 
tire.  I'm  not  surprised,  though.  I  was  fool 
enough  to  let  you  and  the  rest  of  the  house  com- 
mittee overrule  me,  but,  if  you  '11  remember,  when 
the  idea  of  planting  him  here  was  first  suggested, 
I  warned  you  that  he  should  have  some  associates 
at  hand  to  work  with  him.  This  wasn't  any  one- 
man  job.  They've  got  onto  him,  and  he  must  have 
discovered  something  at  last.  Or,  suppose  that 
Harvest  Dance  affair  has  been  repeated  to-night 
after*  all,  and  he 's  been  gotten  out  of  the  way ! ' ' 

At  this  moment  Ralph  Fraser  reappeared  and 
came  quickly  toward  them. 

"Mr.  Estridge,  you  seem  to  be  in  charge,"  he 
remarked.  "I've  had  a  little  experience  with 
affairs  of  this  sort  down  where  I  come  from,  and, 
if  I  can  be  of  any  assistance,  please  command  me. 
I  take  it  that  this  Grant  wasn't  just  what  he  was 
supposed  to  be." 

"He  wasn't,"  Estridge  replied  briefly.  He  was 
kneeling  beside  the  body,  rapidly  going  through 
the  pockets,  and  now  he  rose  with  a  long  strip  of 


THE  GLISTENING  STRAND  55 

paper  in  his  hand.  "You  can  help  us  if  you  will 
be  so  good,  Fraser.  Here  is  a  list  of  all  the  mem- 
bers, guests,  club  attendants,  and  extra  waiters 
hired  from  the  caterers  for  this  occasion.  Your 
brother  has  gone  for  the  coroner,  but  every  one 
else  must  remain  until  they  are  officially  permitted 
to  leave  by  the  authorities.  Will  you  see  to  it? 
Bowles  and  Landon  are  attending  to  it,  but  they 
can't  keep  an  eye  on  every  one,  and  naturally  all 
of  us  are  technically  under  suspicion. ' ' 

"Where  are  all  the  chauffeurs  and  the  watch- 
man, anyway?"  Sowerby  glanced  out  at  the  semi- 
circle of  empty  cars.  "You  slipped  up  there, 
Sam!" 

Ealph  smiled.  "That's  why  I  beat  it  indoors 
as  soon  as  I  saw  what  had  happened,  and  that 
Grant  had  worn  a  wig  and  glasses,  evidently  for  no 
other  purpose  than  to  make  himself  appear  some 
one  who  he  wasn't.  I'm  only  a  guest  here,  gentle- 
men, a  stranger,  and  not  in  your  confidence,  but  I 
surmised  something  of  the  truth.  Seeing  that  the 
driveway  was  deserted  I  took  it  upon  myself  to 
corral  those  whom  you  might  overlook  in  the  first 
excitement.  The  chauffeurs  and  watchman  were 
shooting  crap  in  that  room  off  the  kitchen,  and,  if 
I'm  any  judge,  they  were  all  so  intent  that  none 
of  them  even  heard  the  shot.  But  I  took  care  to 


56       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

explain  to  them  that  it  wouldn't  be  healthy  for 
any  of  them,  to  leave  the  room  until  they  were 
sent  for.  I  had  the  brass  to  use  your  name,  Mr. 
Estridge." 

"I'm  glad  you  did,  and  you've  rendered  us  all 
a  service  in  acting  so  promptly,"  the  attorney  re- 
sponded cordially.  "If  Doctor  Fellowes  isn't  out 
on  a  case,  Jack  ought  to  have  him  here  in  a  few 
minutes  now,  but  time  is  precious,  and  I'd  like  to 
have  all  the  data  available  for  him  and  the  other 
county  authorities  that  we  can  gather.  Sorry  I 
can't  take  you  completely  into  our  confidence  now, 
but,  besides  Mr.  Sowerby  and  your  brother,  no  one 
present  to-night,  except  myself,  knows  the  real 
identity  of  Grant,  nor  why  he  has  been  here 
incognito." 

"No  one  but  the  person  who  fired  the  shot, 
Sam,"  Sowerby  interrupted  dryly.  "He  must 
either  have  guessed  the  truth  and  been  waiting 
for  this  occasion  and  the  moment  of  darkness  to 
rid  himself  of  danger  of  retribution  for  what  hap- 
pened before,  or  planned  another  coup  for  to- 
night. How  many  cars  brought  people  here  this 
evening?  Does  anybody  know?  It  would  have 
been  easy  enough,  in  that  minute  before  the  lights 
were  turned  on  again,  for  the  murderer  to  have 
made  off  with  anybody's  car,  or  slipped  away  on 


THE  GLISTENING  STRAND  57 

foot  through  the  shrubbery,  for  that  matter.  This 
thing  has  been  bungled  from  start  to  finish,  but 
no  one  would  listen  to  me!'* 

"It  has  been  bungled  fatally  as  far  as  poor 
Grant  is  concerned,  and  I  feel  criminally  respon- 
sible for  not  foreseeing  the  possibility  of  this 

crime,  but  as  for  the  rest — well "  Estridge 

shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Whoever  shot  him  is 
still  in  the  clubhouse,  Rutherford,  you  can  depend 
upon  that,  or,  if  he  is  skulking  about  the  grounds, 
he  will  soon  be  brought  in.  Do  you  remember  our 
conversation  yesterday?  You  were  impatient  that 
Grant  had  not  accomplished  the  purpose  for  which 
we  brought  him  here,  and  you  predicted  a  repeti- 
tion of  the  Harvest  Dance  affair.  I  didn't  think  it 
expedient  to  tell  you  then  what  I  had  arranged  on 
my  own  initiative,  but  I  happen  to  know  our  watch- 
man's predilection  for  a  congenial  crap  game,  and 
Grant  couldn't  have  been  expected  to  keep  an  eye 
on  everything  to-night.  I  have  some  picked  men 
scattered  about  the  grounds  and  the  roads  leading 
to  the  club.  They  have  orders  not  to  close  in 
before  I  give  them  a  certain  signal,  no  matter 
what  they  hear,  unless  they  catch  some  one  trying 
to  leave." 

"Suppose  they've  closed  in  on  Jack  Fraser!" 
Sowerby  suggested. 


58       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

"No  fear  of  that!  You  saw  me  draw  him  aside 
before  I  sent  him  for  the  coroner ;  that  was  to  give 
him  a  countersign  which  would  be  recognized  if 
he  were  stopped,"  replied  Estridge.  "Whipping 
a  large  silk  handkerchief  from  his  pocket,  he 
stooped  once  more  and  laid  it  over  the  face  of  the 
dead  man.  Then  he  remarked:  "We  must  not 
move  the  body,  of  course,  and  I  have  reasons  of 
my  own  for  preferring  to  remain  beside  it  until 
the  coroner  arrives.  In  the  meantime,  Fraser,  if 
you'll  just  go  and  see  that  Bowles  and  Landon 
keep  the  crowd  in  order  and  quieted." 

' '  Certainly. ' '  Ralph  Fraser  paused  in  the  door- 
way. * '  Have  you  examined  the  wound  f ' ' 

"Only  superficially,"  the  attorney  responded. 
"It  was  caused  by  a  bullet  of  small  caliber,  and  it 
must  have  pierced  the  heart,  but  the  autopsy  will 
determine  the  details  definitely.  There  were  no 
powder  marks,  as  you  see,  so  it  must  have  been 
fired  from  some  distance." 

"  *A  bullet  of  small  caliber,7  "  repeated  Fraser 
thoughtfully.  "I  don't  know  how  highly  you  rate 
the  capabilities  of  your  local  authorities,  Mr.  Es- 
tridge, nor  what  is  back  of  this  little  affair,  but 
it  looks  as  though  they  would  find  their  work  cut 
out  for  them,  doesn't  it?" 

He  disappeared  within,  and  Estridge  turned  to 


THE  GLISTENING  STRAND  59 

the  bank  president.  "Rutherford,  get  rid  of  any 
one  who  may  happen  to  be  in  the  locker  room  and, 
when  you're  sure  that  you  are  alone,  use  the 
farthest  booth  from  the  door.  Tell  the  operator 
to  give  you  a  clear  wire,  and  be  careful  not  to 
speak  loud  enough  for  the  others  to  hear  you." 

"Say,  Sam,  it  seems  to  me  there's  enough 
darned  mystery  about  this  thing  without  your 
making  more  of  it!  I'm  a  member  of  the  house 
committee,  too,  you  know!"  interrupted  Sowerby. 
' '  Of  course  we  deputized  you  to  engage  this  fellow 
Grant,  but  what  is  the  idea  of  stationing  the 
guards  about  without  taking  us  into  your  confi- 
dence? I  suppose  that  notice  on  the  bulletin 
board,  which  has  set  so  many  tongues  wagging, 
meant  that  those  who  left  early  and  didn't  come  to 
you  for  your  fool,  melodramatic  countersign  would 
be  held  up.  What  excuse  would  you  have  given?" 

"None  but  the  truth,"  Estridge  replied  quietly. 
' '  That,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  so  many  valuable 
jewels  were  worn  by  the  ladies  present  this  eve- 
ning, it  had  been  thought  best  to  station  extra 
watchmen  about  the  grounds  who  would  permit 
no  one  to  pass  out  without  proving  his  identity. 
As  a  matter  of  fact  no  one  has  attempted  to 
leave. ' ' 

"  ' Thought  best!'  "  snorted  the  other  resent- 


60       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

fully.  "Who  the  deuce  asked  you  to  think  for 
the  whole  club,  Sam!  Not  but  what  the  idea  was 
a  sensible  one,  but  why  didn't  you  tell,  at  least, 
young  Fraser  and  me,  as  the  only  other 
members  of  the  house  committee  who  intended  to 
be  present?  It  was  confoundedly  irregular  of 
you  I  What's  this  mysterious  'reason  of  your  own* 
for  hanging  around  the  poor  fellow 's  body  till  the 
coroner  gets  here,  and  who  was  he,  anyway?" 

"Your  last  question  will  be  answered  if  you'll 
telephone,  as  I  was  about  to  ask  you,  Rutherford." 
Estridge  was  unruffled  by  the  outburst  of  his  com- 
panion. "Call  up  0 'Hare's  Detective  Agency  in 
New  York  and  tell  them  that  Jim  Doyle,  the  oper- 
ative whom  they  assigned  to  the  job  out  here,  has 
been  done  in,  and  that  the  county  authorities  have 
been  notified.  Give  them  the  barest  details,  say 
that  you  have  got  to  be  careful  of  an  open  wire, 
that  you  are  speaking  for  me,  and  that  I  will  com- 
municate with  them  personally  and  at  length  in 
the  morning." 

"So  he  was  one  of  0 'Hare's  men,  eh?"  The 
bank  president  stared.  "I  presume  you  know 
what  that  kind  of  a  message  will  do,  don't  you?  It 
will  bring  more  of  0  'Hare 's  private  detectives  out 
here  to  clash  with  the  local  authorities." 

"That  is  precisely  what  I  want,"  returned  Es- 


THE  GLISTENING  STRAND  61 

tridge.  "Not  a  clash  with  the  local  authorities, 
necessarily,  but  we  can't  avoid  notoriety  now  in 
any  case,  and  we  need  the  most  expert  assistance 
we  can  obtain.  O'Hare  is  not  the  sort  to  let  an 
operative  of  his  be  killed  in  the  line  of  duty  with- 
out knowing  why  and  by  whom,  and,  if  I'm  not 
mistaken,  he'll  put  his  star  man  on  the  job  as 
soon  as  he  can  get  him  here.  We'll  need  him, 
Eutherford — we're  in  deep  waters." 

"Not  too  deep  for  you  to  swim  in,  though!" 
Sowerby's  small  eyes  crinkled  at  the  corners.  "I 
forgot  your  record  in  the  courts,  and  I'll  take  back 
what  I  said;  I  guess  you  can  do  the  thinking  for 
the  club,  Sam.  I'll  phone  O'Hare,  and  then,  if 
you  want  me,  you  will  find  me  with  the  rest." 

Estridge  then  reached  inside  the  sash  and 
pulled  down  the  shade.  Next  he  closed  the  window 
and  stood  for  a  minute  staring  down  at  the  body 
of  the  dead  detective.  Doyle,  or  Grant,  as  the 
other  club  members  had  known  him,  had  not  been 
off  duty  on  this  night  of  all  nights  as  the  attorney 
very  well  realized.  Why  had  he  taken  up  his 
station  at  that  particular  window  and  never  left 
it?  Was  it  merely  to  watch  the  dancing,  to  carry 
out  his  impersonation  of  the  house  secretary,  the 
employee  who  was  yet  accorded  the  privilege  of 
looking  on  at  that  in  which  he  might  not  share, 


62       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

or  had  he  had  some  deeper  motive  for  maintaining 
that  point  of  vantage? 

The  opened  window  gave  an  unobstructed  view 
of  the  huge  entrance  hall  which  was  being  used 
for  the  overflow  from  the  ballroom;  a  view,  also, 
of  his  own  closed  office  door,  of  Murdock's  desk, 
and  the  wide  staircase  between,  as  well  as 
glimpses  of  the  conservatory  on  one  side,  and  the 
supper  room  on  the  other.  Surely  the  detective 
could  not  have  chosen  a  more  central  and,  at  the 
same  time,  unobtrusive  position,  yet  there  were 
other  windows  in  the  row  on  either  side  of  the 
veranda  door  from  which  he  could  have  looked  in 
on  precisely  the  same  scene — windows  above  which 
no  glowing  lantern  hung  to  make  him  so  sure  a 
mark  in  that  moment  of  semi-darkness! 

Estridge  glanced  involuntarily  up  at  the  gro- 
tesque dragon  swaying  above  him,  and  he  discov- 
ered that  the  light  within  it  was  flickering  crazily. 
He  knew  that  most  of  the  lanterns  had  been  strung 
on  electric  wires  connected  with  the  main  switch, 
so  that  they,  together  with  the  brackets  and  chan- 
deliers within  doors,  might  be  extinguished  for 
that  midnight  moment  of  respect  to  "absent 
members,"  but  at  stated  intervals  along  the  ver- 
anda some  were  to  have  been  fitted  with  candles 
and  left  to  give  a  slight  glow  of  light.  The  dragon 


THE  GLISTENING  STRAND  63 

lantern  must  have  been  one  of  the  latter,  and  now 
its  short  candle  length  was  guttering;  had  the 
pseudo-secretary  known  of  this  arrangement? 

While  the  attorney  stood  meditating  the  candle 
flared  suddenly  and  went  out,  and  the  writhing 
dragon  became  merely  a  decoration  in  red  and 
black,  and  the  lantern  itself  suddenly  collapsed 
and  fell  to  the  floor  at  his  feet.  Estridge  started 
mechanically  to  pick  it  up  when  something  within 
it  caught  his  eye — something  which  gleamed  in 
the  electric  lights  like  a  coil  of  sparks. 

With  an  exclamation  he  glanced  about  him  at 
the  deserted  veranda,  then,  stooping  swiftly  be- 
neath the  line  of  the  window  ledge,  lest  his  shadow 
show  against  the  shade,  he  drew  forth  from  the 
base  of  the  lantern  a  strand  which  glittered  in  his 
hands  like  living  fire. 

Backing  away  from  the  window,  he  straightened 
and  looked  down  at  the  still  form  at  his  feet. 

"I  know  now."  His  lips  formed  the  woids  in 
a  toneless  whisper.  "You  turned  the  trick,  l)oyle, 
even  though  it  cost  you  your  life !  You  made  good, 
and  no  man  can  do  more  1 ' ' 


CHAPTEE  V 

BENWICK    CRANE   ARRIVES 

THE  shrill  note  of  the  siren,  which  cut  the 
night  air  not  many  minutes  after  Estridge's 
discovery,  was  followed  by  the  droning  roar  of 
an  engine,  and  Jack  Eraser's  car  swirled  madly 
up  the  curving  drive  to  stop  with  a  jolt  before 
the  veranda  steps. 

"Is  that  you,  Estridge?"  the  latter  called 
cautiously.  "We're  in  luck.  I  found  the  sheriff 
playing  checkers  with  Doctor  Fellowes  and 
brought  him  along,  too!" 

"Good  evening,  doctor,  or  rather  good  morn- 
ing, for  it  is  past  midnight."  Estridge  advanced 
and  held  out  his  hand  as  a  tall,  slightly  stoop- 
shouldered  man  with  a  trimly  pointed  gray  beard 
mounted  the  steps,  followed  by  a  corpulent,  but 
surprisingly  active,  figure.  "Sheriff,  I  suppose 
Mr.  Eraser  has  told  you  of  the  crime  which  has 
been  committed  here  to-night.  I  am  prepared  to 
give  you  all  the  details  in  our  possession  and  to 

64 


65 

assure  you  that  no  one  has  been  permitted  to  leave 
the  premises." 

They  shook  hands,  and  the  coroner  proceeded 
straightway  to  his  investigation  of  the  body,  but 
Sheriff  Coburn,  after  a  more  cursory  glance  at 
it,  turned  again  to  the  attorney. 

"1*11  let  the  doc  have  his  innings  first,  Mr. 
Estridge,  but  I'd  like  the  truth  about  what  Mr. 
Fraser  tried  to  tell  us  while  we  were  whizzing  out 
here.  I  understand  that  the  dead  man  has  been 
acting  as  an  employee  of  the  club  for  the  past  few 
days,  but  he  was  actually  a  city  detective,  engaged 
on  the  quiet  by  some  of  you  to  find  out  who  has 
been  committing  some  robberies."  His  usually 
good-natured  eyes  blinked  resentfully  in  his  round 
face.  "I  suppose  our  country  methods  weren't 
good  enough  for  you  city  folks  who  have  settled 
out  our  way,  but  that's  neither  here  nor  there. 
Your  smart  operative  has  let  the  thief  get  the 
drop  on  him,  and  now  it's  up  to  us  after  all.  We'll 
want  the  whole  story,  sir,  that  we  should  have  had 
in  the  beginning." 

"You'll  have  it,  sheriff."  Estridge 's  tone  was 
the  blandly  conciliatory  one  which  many  an  assist- 
ant district  attorney  knew  to  the  cost  of  his  pres- 
tige and  the  loss  of  the  State 's  case.  *  *  Some  minor 
discrepancies  appeared  in  the  club's  accounts  after 


66       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

the  departure  of  our  former  secretary,  Mr.  Mar- 
tin, which  we — the  house  committee — preferred  to 
make  up  out  of  our  own  pockets  rather  than  start 
a  scandal." 

"Didn't  strike  you,  as  a  lawyer,  that  you  were 
pretty  near  compounding  a  felony,  did  it,  Mr.  Es- 
tridge?"  The  sheriff  rubbed  his  chin  reflectively. 

"Hardly,"  Estridge  observed.  "Martin  could 
have  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  crime  wThich  we 
employed  this  detective  to  investigate;  the  rob- 
bery took  place  after  his  departure  for  the  West 
— on  the  night  of  our  Harvest  Dance,  in  fact.  You 
would  have  been  notified  at  once,  but  the  victim 
herself  objected  to  any  stir  being  made  about  it 
in  the  neighborhood  and  preferred  to  call  in  a 
private  detective  from  the  city." 

"  'Herself?'  repeated  the  sheriff.  "One  of  the 
ladies  was  robbed?  What  was  it,  jewelry?  Who 
was  it?" 

"It  was  Mrs.  de  Forest,  and  she  was  robbed 
of  this. ' '  As  he  spoke  the  attorney  drew  from  his 
pocket  the  glistening  strand,  which  he  had  found 
coiled  about  the  base  of  the  dragon  lantern,  and 
extended  it  to  the  county  official  who  retreated  a 
step,  his  eyes  bulging. 

"You  don't  say!"  he  exclaimed.    "That's  not 


BENWICK  CRANE  ARRIVES  67 

Mrs.  cle  Forest's  necklace,  the  famous  de  Forest 
diamonds  ? ' ' 

Samuel  Estridge  nodded.  "They  dropped  or 
were  clipped  from  her  neck  some  time  during  the 
Harvest  Dance  which  was  held  late  in  September ; 
as  soon  as  she  discovered  her  loss,  with  rare  pres- 
ence of  mind,  she  made  no  scene,  but  reported  the 
matter  quietly  to  various  members  of  the  house 
committee,  of  which  I  was  one.  After  the  dance 
was  over  we  held  a  special  meeting,  and  the  course, 
which  we  subsequently  adopted,  was  decided 
upon,"  he  resumed.  "I  was  deputized  to  engage 
a  man  from  0 'Hare's  agency  to  come  down  here 
and  pose  as  the  new  club  secretary  in  order  to 
get  in  touch  with  both  members  and  attendants 
and  discover,  if  he  could,  the  identity  of  the  thief. 
You  see,  sheriff,  every  one  here  that  night  was 
virtually  open  to  possible  suspicion  of  having 
stolen  the  string  of  diamonds,  just  as  every  one 
present  this  evening  is  a  possible  suspect  of 
murder. ' ' 

"Then  this  man  didn't  find  out  who  had  taken 
the  necklace?"  demanded  the  sheriff  as  he  took 
the  strand  of  gleaming  jewels  from  the  attorney 
and  ran  it  gingerly  through  his  pudgy  fingers. 
"Mr.  Fraser  didn't  have  time  to  tell  us  whether 


68       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

Grant  had  made  an  ante-mortem  statement  or 
not." 

' '  Grant — or  Doyle,  to  give  him  his  real  name — 
must  have  died  instantly,  and  I  am  afraid  we  shall 
never  know  the  whole  truth  about  to-night,"  re- 
sponded Estridge  gravely.  "We  can  only  be  cer- 
tain that  he  discovered  the  hiding  place  of  the 
diamonds  and  was  keeping  guard  beneath  it  until 
such  time  as  he  might  take  possession  of  them 
without  the  knowledge  of  the  thief ;  but  the  latter 
must  have  suspected  his  intention  and  fired  the 
fatal  shot  when  the  lights  were  lowered  for  a  few 
minutes  at  midnight. ' ' 

"What  were  the  lights  lowered  for?  You  folks 
dance  till  all  hours  out  here.  You  say  that  this 
fellow  Doyle  was  keeping  guard  beneath  the  place 
where  the  diamonds  were  hidden ;  then,  if  the  body 
hasn't  been  moved "  The  sheriff  was  not  per- 
mitted to  finish  his  question. 

"It  hasn't,"  said  Estridge.  "They  were  inside 
that  Chinese  lantern  which  swung  just  above  the 
window  all  this  evening.  I  only  discovered  them 
myself  by  accident,  a  few  minutes  before  your 
arrival.  The  lantern  fell,  and,  if  you  will  examine 
the  diamonds,  even  in  this  light  you  will  see  that 
congealed  candle  grease  is  still  adhering  to  them." 

Doctor  Fellowes  had  concluded  his  preliminary 


RENWICK  CEANE  ARRIVES  69 

examination  of  the  body,  and  now  he  approached 
silently  and  listened  while  the  attorney  briefly,  but 
concisely,  summed  up  the  events  of  the  night. 

"What  do  you  make  of  it,  doc!"  Sheriff  Co- 
burn  asked  with  the  familiarity  of  lifelong  asso- 
ciation. "How  far  off  was  the  shot  fired?" 

"A  considerable  distance,  I  should  say;  I  don't 
want  to  commit  myself  before  the  autopsy,  but  I 
think  a  high-powered  pistol  of  small  caliber  was 
used,  and  it  might  have  been  fired  anywhere  from 
twenty  to  forty  feet  away,"  Doctor  Fellowes  re- 
plied cautiously.  "The  bullet  penetrated  or 
passed  very  close  to  the  heart." 

The  sheriff  was  obviously  much  impressed. 
"You've  hit  on  a  mighty  valuable  clew  right 

there!  It  would  take  a  pretty  good  shot " 

He  broke  off  suddenly,  remembering  the  presence 
of  Samuel  Estridge.  While  the  sheriff  walked 
over  to  examine  the  dead  man  for  himself,  the 
coroner  asked:  "You've  got  a  light  motor  truck 
here  belonging  to  the  club,  haven't  you,  Mr.  Es- 
tridge? I've  seen  it  going  to  the  station  with 
golf  bags.  I'd  like  to  remove  the  body  in  that  for 
the  autopsy.  Have  you  notified  the  detective 
agency  of  his  death?" 

1 '  Yes ;  another  member  of  the  house  committee, 
President  Rutherford  Sowerby  of  the  Tradesmen's 


70       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

Bank,  has  done  so."  Estridge  paused.  "I  may 
add  that  only  he,  Mrs.  de  Forest,  Mr.  Jack  Fraser, 
and  myself  were  aware,  until  to-night's  tragedy, 
that  the  necklace  was  stolen,  or  that  Doyle  was 
other  than  the  club  secretary  he  pretended  to  be. 
The  other  members  of  the  house  committee,  who 
were  present  at  the  special  meeting  after  the  Har- 
vest Dance,  have  been  either  ill  or  away  since  that 
night,  and  we  had  not  then  decided  in  what  capac- 
ity we  would  introduce  a  private  detective  here. 
For  reasons  which  are  obvious,  of  course,  we 
should  like  to  keep  this  whole  affair  as  quiet  as 
possible  and  avoid  all  the  scandal  and  notoriety 
that  we  can,  at  any  rate,  until  the  identity  of  the 
criminal  has  been  discovered." 

Doctor  Fellowes  shook  his  head.  "You  won't 
find  that  very  easy  if  every  one  rushed  out  here 
after  the  shot  was  fired  and  saw  that  the  man  had 
been  palpably  disguised,"  he  remarked.  "The 
caterer's  people  and  the  orchestra  from  the  city 
are  bound  to  talk  to  reporters. ' ' 

"Oh,  you'll  have  to  stand  for  the  notoriety,  all 
right,  Mr.  Estridge!"  The  sheriff  had  hung  the 
lightless  lantern  again  on  its  hook  and  rejoined 
them  in  time  to  catch  the  drift  of  the  coroner's 
words.  "Even  if  Mrs.  de  Forest  hasn't  told  them 
by  now  of  the  theft  of  her  necklace,  it's  all  bound 


EENWICK  CRANE  AERIVES  71 

to  come  out  at  the  inquest.  Here's  Mr.  Fraser." 
Jack  Fraser  had  parked  his  car,  stopped  for  a 
brief  conversation  with  one  of  the  special  guards 
who  had  been  stationed  about  the  grounds,  and 
now  he  ascended  the  veranda  steps  and  came 
toward  them.  Arrangements  were  quickly  made 
for  him  to  take  out  the  light  motor  truck  and 
drive  the  coroner  and  his  gruesome  charge  back 
to  the  village.  The  sheriff  and  Estridge  entered 
the  main  hall  of  the  clubhouse. 

A  strange  sight  met  their  gaze  where  so  short 
a  time  before  groups  of  light-hearted  people  had 
dominated  the  scene.  The  center  of  the  floor  was 
deserted  and  littered  with  gloves,  handkerchiefs, 
and  broken-plumed  fans.  Young  Mrs.  Sowerby 
was  stretched  upon  a  bench  which  had  been  hastily 
drawn  from  the  conservatory.  Jack  Fraser 's  wife 
and  Alice  Dare  were  ministering  to  her,  and,  near 
tlie  closed  door  of  the  late  pseudo-secretary's  little 
office,  Phil  Dorrance  had  buttonholed  the  reluctant 
Gerald  Landon  and  appeared  to  be  questioning  him 
excitedly.  At  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  where  she 
had  halted  when  the  report  of  the  shot  came,  Mrs. 
Carter  had  seated  herself,  and  Ogden  Bowles  bent 
solicitously  above  her,  but  of  Rutherford  Sowerby, 
Ralph  Fraser,  and  Murdock  there  was  no  sign. 
Sounds  of  varying  degrees  of  hysteria  from  the 


72       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

conservatory,  ballroom,  and  supper  rooms  indi- 
cated where  the  rest  of  the  women  members  and 
guests  had  taken  refuge — all  save  two.  Mrs.  de 
Forest  was  once  more  in  her  chair  in  the  corner, 
tacitly  reserved  for  her  at  all  club  functions,  but 
her  usually  erect  figure  was  huddled,  and  her  face 
seemed  suddenly  to  have  become  lined  and  very 
old.  She  was  staring  straight  before  her,  appar- 
ently oblivious  to  the  soothing  utterances  of  her 
one  faithful  satellite,  Mrs.  Dorrance,  but  she 
roused  herself  and  glanced  up  as  the  attorney  and 
the  sheriff  approached. 

"I  have  been  a  proud  old  woman,  Mr.  Coburn, 
and  indirectly  that  poor  young  man's  death  lies 
at  my  door ! ' '  she  said  brokenly.  i  i  If  I  had  not  in- 
sisted to  the  house  committee  on  avoiding  village 
gossip  and  the  hounding  of  society  reporters  from 
town  by  having  a  private  investigation  conducted, 
he  would  never  have  come  here  to  meet  his  end!" 

The  sheriff  had  always  been  secretly  in  awe  of 
this  grand  lady  of  the  fashionable  colony  which 
had  invaded  Broadlawns  and,  like  most  of  the  na- 
tives, had  cloaked  this  feeling  beneath  an  attitude 
of  swaggering  independence.  But,  before  her  dis- 
arming self-abasement,  his  good  nature  reasserted 
itself,  and  he  replied  with  grim  humor:  "No, 
ma'am.  You  would  probably  have  called  in  Con- 


EENWICK  CRANE  ARRIVES  73 

stable  Meeks,  and  he  would  have  called  in  me,  and 
then,  if  either  of  us  had  been  as  successful  as  that 
young  man  was  in  what  he  undertook,  we'd  most 
likely  be  lying  where  he  is  to-night ;  that  is,  if  we  'd 
been  so  careless  as  to  stay  in  the  light!" 

'  *  '  Successful ! '  "  Mrs.  de  Forest  caught  up  the 
word  with  a  sharp  exclamation.  She  turned  in 
bewilderment  to  the  attorney.  "Mr.  Estridge, 
what  does  the  sheriff  mean?" 

Mrs.  Dorrance  was  staring  from  one  to  the 
other  of  them  with  avid  interest,  and  Sheriff  Co- 
burn  interposed  bluntly :  "  I  '11  be  glad  to  tell  you, 
ma'am,  if  you  will  come  where  we  can  talk  pri- 
vately. I  understand  that  this  affair  isn't  to  be 
known  generally  throughout  the  club,  just  yet." 

"Poor  Mr.  Grant's  office  is  bolted,  but  why  not 
try  the  ladies'  locker  room?"  Mrs.  Dorrance 
suggested,  rising.  "I  know  there  must  be  some 
terrible  mystery  back  of  what  has  happened  to- 
night, and  I  won't  intrude,  but,  dear  Mrs.  de  For- 
est, I  am  sure  you  will  confide  in  me  as  soon  as  the 
opportunity  offers." 

She  bowed  to  the  sheriff  and  Samuel  Estridge, 
and,  as  she  moved  away,  the  attorney  observed: 
1 '  That  was  not  a  bad  suggestion.  Shall  we  adjourn 
to  the  ladies'  locker  room?" 

Mrs.  de  Forest  rose,  masking  her  agitation  from 


74       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

those  in  the  hall  who  might  be  watching  them. 
The  three  made  their  way  to  the  room  indicated, 
and  here  the  sheriff,  after  carefully  fastening 
the  door,  drew  from  his  pocket  the  necklace  and 
placed  it  in  the  lady's  hands. 

"My  diamonds!"  she  exclaimed.     "But  where 


"I'm  sorry  not  to  be  able  to  explain  now, 
ma'am,  and  I'll  have  to  ask  you  to  return  them 
to  me  again  as  evidence.  I  only  wanted  you  to 
know  that  they  were  safe,  and  I'll  give  you  a 
receipt  for  them.  You  positively  identify  them, 
don't  you?" 

"Unless  this  is  a  paste  replica,  which  only  an 
expert  could  detect,  it  is  indeed  my  necklace,  '  '  Mrs. 
de  Forest  affirmed.  "I  would  be  overjoyed  at 
recovering  it  if  it  were  not  for  the  fact  that  it  cost 
that  unfortunate  young  detective  his  life  !  Do  you 
know  who  took  it  from  me  at  the  Harvest  Dance, 
or  who  fired  that  shot  to-night?" 

"No,  ma'am."  The  sheriff,  who  had  been 
laboriously  writing  a  receipt,  now  held  the  paper 
out  to  her.  "If  you  '11  just  give  me  back  that  neck- 
lace it  will  be  produced  at  the  inquest  and  then 
returned  to  you,  provided  nobody's  held  for  trial. 
Till  then  I  take  it  that  Mr.  Sowerby,  Mr.  Fraser, 
and  Mr.  Estridge  will  be  glad  if  you'd  keep  as 


EENWICK  CRANE  ARRIVES  75 

quiet  about  losing  it  at  all  as  you  have  during  the 
past  month.  Of  course  all  the  folks  here  to-night 
know  that  Grant  was  at  the  club  in  disguise,  and 
that  he  was  murdered,  but  no  one  knows  why,  and 
no  one  but  the  murderer  himself  knows  yet  who 
pulled  the  trigger. ' ' 

"Take  it!"  Mrs.  de  Forest  extended  the  neck- 
lace with  a  gesture  of  repulsion.  "I  feel  as 
though  there  were  a  stain  upon  it !  But  I  don't  in 
the  least  understand." 

"Mr.  Estridge  will  have  to  explain  to  you  later, 
ma'am;  I've  got  other  things  to  do  now  before 
the  coroner  gets  back.  You  know  that  we  work 
kind  of  independently  in  a  case  like  this,  and  we 
can't  keep  the  folks  here  up  all  night."  Sheriff 
Coburn  wrapped  the  diamonds  in  his  handkerchief 
and  stowed  them  carefully  in  an  inside  pocket. 
"Got  mighty  near  onto  a  hundred  people  here, 
counting  extra  help  and  all,  I  understand  from  Mr. 
Fraser,  and  it  will  be  some  job  to  weed  them  out. 
Mr.  Estridge,  can  I  see  you  for  a  minute?" 

' l  Look  here,  sheriff,  what  was  your  idea  in  hang- 
ing that  lantern  back  on  the  hook  from  which  it 
fell  when  the  candle  guttered?"  the  attorney  asked 
when  they  had  taken  their  leave  of  the  lady  and 
started  toward  the  billiard  room. 

The  sheriff  winked  slyly.    ' '  Unless  you  yourself 


76       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

put  that  necklace  there,  Mr.  Estridge,  nobody 
but  us  and  the  coroner  knows  that  it  has  been 
discovered.  I  put  the  lantern  back  in  place  before 
Mr,  Fraser  came  up  to  the  porch  after  parking 
his  car,  and  I  figured  that,  as  soon  as  he  dared,  the 
thief  would  be  looking  for  the  jewels  where  he 
hid  them,"  he  replied.  "That  wouldn't  be  right 
away — not  within  half  an  hour  or  so  after  the 
body  was  taken  off — for  fear  of  drawing  attention 
to  himself,  but  I'd  like  to  swear  you  in  as  a 
special  deputy,  until  I  can  get  one  of  the  boys  out 
from  the  village,  and  have  you  kind  of  hang  around 
where  you  can  watch  that  lantern  from  now  on 
and  see  who  goes  near  it.  As  a  club  member  you 
could  do  it  in  a  natural  sort  of  way  that  would 
scare  the  fellow  off,  whoever  he  is,  without  his 
actually  suspecting  that  you  knew  anything.  Got 
a  revolver  or  pistol  here  at  the  club?" 

"None  that  I  know  of,  sheriff,"  Estridge  said. 
"Suppose,  in  spite  of  my  presence  near  that  lan- 
tern, either  inside  the  window  or  out  on  the  ver- 
anda, the  murderer  takes  a  chance  and,  on  some 
plausible  excuse  attempts  to  remove  it?  He  must 
be  pretty  desperate,  you  know,  and  he's  playing 
for  high  stakes.  I'm  not  as  young  as  I  was,  but 
I'll  tackle  him  if  you  say  so." 


77 

"I  believe  you  would,  sir!"  the  sheriff  re- 
sponded admiringly.  " We've  heard  out  here  of 
a  few  fellows,  whom  you've  had  sent  up,  who 
threatened  to  get  you  when  they  came  out,  but 
none  of  them  tried  it  yet !  However,  I  'm  not  ask- 
ing you  to  look  for  trouble;  if  nobody  actually 
tries  to  touch  the  lantern  don't  bother  'em,  just 
get  a  good  look  at  anybody  who  hangs  around  so 
that  you  can  identify  'em  later.  But,  if  anybody 
tries  to  tamper  with  it,  don't  stop  to  question  'em, 
cover  'em  with  this!" 

They  had  paused  in  a  deserted  corner  of  the 
rear  hall,  and  Sheriff  Coburn  thrust  into  the  hands 
of  his  newly  appointed  deputy  a  short,  but  heavy, 
old-fashioned  revolver,  which  Estridge  inserted 
in  the  pocket  of  his  dinner  jacket.  He  rarely 
appeared  at  the  club  in  more  formal  evening 
attire. 

"I  understand,  sheriff."  With  a  nod  he  saun- 
tered back  across  the  rotunda.  The  return  of  Jack 
Eraser's  car,  bearing  Doctor  Fellowes  and  a  third 
man  on  the  spare  seat,  gave  him  an  excuse  for 
evading  the  eager  questions  which  assailed  him 
from  all  sides. 

"The  sheriff  is  interviewing  the  waiters  and 
assistant  stewards  in  the  billiard  room,  I  believe," 


78       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

Estridge  replied  to  the  coroner's  inquiry.  "The 
watchman  and  the  chauffeurs  are  in  a  room  off 
the  kitchen,  and  you'll  find  the  members  and  guests 
scattered  about  within  doors." 

"Good!  This  is  Constable  Meeks."  Doctor 
Fellowes  indicated  the  tall,  shambling,  ungainly 
figure  which  had  occupied  the  spare  seat  in  the 
little  runabout.  "Any  parties,  club  members,  or 
extra  help  whom  he  conducts  outside  you'll  know 
the  sheriff  and  I  have  finished  with  for  the  time 
being.  Mr.  Fraser  can  give  them  the  word  that 
will  let  them  past  your  special  watchmen  if  they 
should  be  stopped  in  the  grounds." 

Estridge  nodded  to  the  constable,  and  the  three 
entered  the  hall.  Estridge  then  took  up  his  soli- 
tary vigil.  Pacing  the  veranda  he  seemed  lost  in 
thought,  but  in  reality  he  was  watching  keenly  for 
a  flitting  shadow  against  the  windows,  or  a 
stealthy  movement  among  the  branches  of  the 
shrubbery  that  swayed  and  rustled  in  the  night 
wind  upon  the  lawn. 

The  other  candle-lit  lanterns  had  long  since  gone 
out,  and  the  one  which  had  contained  the  necklace 
hung  inert.  Its  once  fiery  dragon  had  become  an 
indistinguishable  design  of  inky  black,  but  no  one 
approached  it  either  from  within  the  house  or 
without.  Presently  a  club  bus  or  two  rattled  up 


RENWICK  CRANE  AEEIVES  79 

to  the  door  and  departed  with  the  orchestra,  jazz 
band,  and  extra  waiters  and  cooks.  Later  the 
members  and  their  guests  began  to  depart  in  their 
various  cars,  each  group  escorted  to  the  steps  by 
the  constable. 

A  distant  village  clock  struck  three,  and  still  the 
attorney's  vigil  remained  unrelieved  and  unre- 
warded. With  the  departure  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dor- 
ranee,  bearing  the  still  hysterical  Mrs.  Sowerby, 
the  constable  came  toward  the  watcher  and  an- 
nounced :  ' '  Sheriff  Coburn  told  me  why  you  were 
out  here,  Mr.  Estridge.  He  and  Doc  Fellowes 
reckon  they'd  rather  have  you  in  there  with  them 
now,  being  as  it  was  you  hired  that  city  detective 
that  got  killed,  and  I'm  going  to  take  your  place. 
Ain't  seen  anything  suspicious,  have  you?" 

Estridge  assured  the  constable  that  he  had  not, 
and,  relinquishing  his  commission  and  the  weapon 
which  was  sagging  down  his  coat  pocket,  he  re- 
turned to  the  hall  of  the  clubhouse.  Here  he  found 
Rutherford  Sowerby  holding  forth. 

"This  is  an  outrage!  You  people  are  only  try- 
ing to  show  your  petty  authority  by  keeping  us 
here,  but  I  have  an  important  directors'  meeting 
in  town  in  the  morning,  and  I  need  my  rest!" 

"That's  all  right,  sir!"  the  sheriff  retorted  pug- 
naciously. "You  folks  don't  mind  cutting  up  and 


80       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

raising  high  jinks  till  morning  when  you're  giving 
a  party,  but  when  it  comes  to  a  murder  inquiry 
you  're  not  to  be  kept  out  of  your  beds. ' ' 

' l  '  High  jinks ! '  The  irate  bank  president  was 
ready  to  explode.  "I'll  have  you  know  that  I've 
had  gout  for  the  past  ten  years!  As  for  this 
murder,  I  know  no  more  about  it  than  you!  I 
was  playing  bridge  with  three  other  members  in 
the  card  room  when  the  lights  dimmed  at  midnight, 
and  we  had  barely  risen  when  the  sound  of  the 
shot  came.  Samuel  Estridge  had  taken  command 
of  the  situation  by  the  time  I  reached  the  veranda, 
and  he  asked  me  to  go  and  telephone  to  0  'Hare 's 
Detective  Agency  in  town  and  tell  them  that  their 
man  had  been  killed.  I  did  so  and  then  went  to 
see  that  none  of  the  chauffeurs  or  waiters  left  the 
premises.  Good  heavens !  My  estate  in  this  one- 
horse  village  of  yours  is  worth  over  sixty  thousand 
dollars;  you  don't  think  I  am  likely  to  run  away, 
do  you!" 

"I  guess  we  can  trust  you,  Mr.  Sowerby,"  the 
coroner  interposed  smoothly.  "We'll  want  you 
at  the  inquest,  but  you  will  be  notified,  and, 
if  Sheriff  Coburn  agrees,  we  will  excuse  you 
now. ' ' 

"I  should  like  to  take  my  wife  home,  also," 


EENWICK  CEANE  AEEIVES          81 

Jack  Fraser  interrupted.  * '  She  was  dancing  with 
my  brother,  and  I  was  dancing  with  Miss  Dare 
when  the  signal  came  for  the  singing  of  'Auld 
Lang  Syne/  Neither  of  us  left  our  partners' 
sides  until  the  report  of  the  shot.  At  least  a  score 
of  people  must  have  seen  us." 

"It  is  an  imposition  to  keep  the  rest  of  the 
ladies  here,  anyway,  at  this  hour ! ' '  Ogden  Bowles 
declared  hotly.  "I'm  not  a  member  of  the  house 
committee,  and  I  don't  know  why  Grant  was  killed 
or  who  killed  him,  but  the  ladies,  at  least,  should 
be  exempt  from  this  all-night  grilling !  Mrs.  Car- 
ter, for  instance,  is  really  ill,  and  Mrs.  de  Forest 
and  her  niece " 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Bowles."  From  her  chair, 
where  by  her  very  presence  she  seemed  to  domi- 
nate the  group,  Mrs.  de  Forest  cast  a  withering 
glance  upon  him.  "Neither  my  niece  nor  myself 
are  of  the  weakly  hysterical  breed !  I  will  speak 
for  us  both,  and  we  will  remain  to  see  this  inquiry 
through ! ' ' 

Before  any  one  could  speak  again  the  roar  of 
a  car  with  the  muffler  cut  out  sounded  from  the 
drive,  and  it  drew  up  at  the  steps.  Constable 
Meeks'  slightly  nasal  tones  came  to  them  mingled 
with  a  quick  authoritative  masculine  voice,  and 


82       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

then  the  door  opened,  and  a  slender,  lithe  young 
man  strode  into  the  room. 

"I  have  motored  out  from  the  city  in  response 
to  a  telephone  message  from  here/'  he  announced. 
"My  name  is  Renwick  Crane." 


CHAPTER  VI 

"MOKE  THAN  ONE" 

AS  the  newcomer  mentioned  his  name,  Sowerby 
and  Bowles  glanced  at  each  other,  and  Es- 
tridge  started  eagerly  forward.  Even  the  sheriff 
uttered  an  exclamation  beneath  his  breath.  In  the 
past  year  or  two  Eenwick  Crane  had  become  cele- 
brated for  his  success  in  the  solving  of  more  than 
one  notoriously  baffling  crime,  and  the  newspapers 
had  sung  his  praises  to  the  chagrin  of  the  regular 
metropolitan  police  department.  0  'Hare  had  sent 
his  star  man  to  avenge  the  death  of  a  lesser 
colleague. 

"Mr.  Crane,  I  believe  we  have  met  in  court. 
I  am  Samuel  Estridge."  The  attorney  spoke 
hastily  and  turned  toward  the  local  officials.  "I 
am  sure  that  Coroner  Fellowes  and  Sheriff  Coburn 
will  be  delighted  to  have  so  distinguished  a  con- 
sultant. You  have  come,  of  course,  to  inquire 
into  the  circumstances  of  the  death  of  your  friend 
who  was  known  among  us  as  the  house  secretary, 

83 


James  Grant.  As  the  reason  for  his  presence 
here  has  not  been  generally  disclosed  I  propose 
that  the  coroner,  the  sheriff,  Mr.  Sowerby,  and 
Mr.  Fraser  of  the  house  committee,  and  you  and 
I  go  into  a  brief,  private  session.  If  the  rest  of 
you  will  wait,  I  promise  you  that  we  shall  not  be 
long. ' ' 

He  led  those  whom  he  had  named  to  the  billiard 
room  and  closed  the  door.  The  others  divided 
themselves  insensibly  into  couples.  Mirs.  Jack 
Fraser  seated  herself  beside  Mrs.  de  Forest,  and 
Alice  Dare,  after  hovering  about  her  aunt  for  a 
moment,  retired  to  a  discreet  distance  behind  her 
chair,  where  she  indulged  in  a  whispered  con- 
versation with  Gerald  Landon.  Ralph  Fraser  and 
Ogden  Bowles  were  talking  by  the  fireplace,  and 
only  Mrs.  Carter  sat  alone  and  a  little  apart. 

Her  pale,  almost  classic,  face  between  the  bands 
of  rich  red  hair  was  as  expressionless  as  ever,  and 
her  slim  hands  were  folded  in  her  lap,  but  her 
lids  drooped  over  her  tawny  eyes,  and  it  seemed 
with  difficulty  that  she  essayed  a  faint  smile  when 
Bowles  at  length  crossed  to  her  side. 

"You  are  utterly  worn  out!"  he  said.  "It  is  a 
shame  to  keep  you  here  after  the  shock  of  the 
tragedy,  particularly  as  you  are  not  well.  I  blame 
myself  for  persuading  you  to  come  this  evening. " 


"MORE  THAN  ONE"  85 

"Indeed  you  mustn't,"  she  replied  softly.  "I 
am  unnerved,  of  course,  but  it  is  of  that  poor 
man  I  am  thinking,  and  of  the  strange  mystery 
of  his  presence  here.  He  was  a  detective,  we  know 
that,  but  I  have  heard  of  no  robbery  at  the  club, 
have  you?" 

Bowles  shook  his  head.  "It's  bound  to  come 
out  at  the  inquest,  anyway,  so  I  can't  understand 
why  the  house  committee  are  so  secretive  now.  I 
shouldn't  be  surprised  if  the  matter  turned  out 
to  be  more  of  a  domestic  scandal  than  a  criminal 
affair,"  he  said.  "However,  I'm  not  a  he-gossip, 
and  people  don't  kill  for  the  mere  sake  of  preserv- 
ing a  reputation ! " 

"Not  without  warning,  e\*en  down  where  I  came 
from,"  Mrs.  Carter  agreed.  "It  really  does  seem 
rather  silly  not  to  tell  the  members  of  the  club 
why  a  detective  was  employed  to  spy  upon  them, 
especially  now  that  the  poor  man  is  dead." 

Behind  locked  doors  in  the  billiard  room,  Ruth- 
erford Sowerby  was  voicing  somewhat  the  same 
sentiment,  but  in  less  complimentary  terms. 

"As  long  as  that  old  she-dragon's  necklace  has 
been  recovered,  I  don't  see  why  the  whole  story 
shouldn't  be  given  to  the  boys  of  the  press  when 
they  come  swarming  out  in  the  morning!"  he  ex- 
claimed. "I  could  have  bought  the  thing  for  her 


86       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

twice  over,  and  now  it  has  created  the  worst  scan- 
dal a  country  club  ever  endured,  aside  from  caus- 
ing the  death  of  that  poor  fellow,  Doyle.  Doctor 
Fellowes  says  he'll  hold  the  inquest  on  Monday 
at  the  latest,  and  that  is  only  two  days  off.  This 
is  Saturday  morning." 

"I  want  those  two  days.'*  Renwick  Crane  spoke 
quietly,  but  with  an  intensity  of  purpose  which 
brooked  no  denial.  "Since  the  coroner  and  the 
sheriff  have  been  good  enough  to  give  me  a  free 
hand  in  my  own  investigation  and  have  agreed  to 
cooperate  with  me  in  every  way  compatible  with 
their  offices,  may  I  suggest  that,  until  it  is  needed 
as  evidence  at  the  inquest,  the  dragon  lantern  be 
taken  down  with  the  other  lanterns  and  put  away 
as  is  usual  after  an  entertainment  f  I  have  brought 
some  of  my  own  operatives  with  me  from  the 
agency,  and  one  of  them  will  watch  any  one  who 
approaches  that  lantern  until  it  is  put  in  evidence. 
Your  constable  can  be  released  for  more  important 
duty." 

"But  what  could  be  more  important?"  asked 
Jack  Fraser  in  surprise.  "Surely  when  you  get 
the  man  who  had  a  guilty  knowledge  of  the  where- 
abouts of  that  necklace,  you  will  have  caught  the 
murderer  of  James  Doyle!" 

"Not  if  he  can  present  an  alibi,  which  you  are 


< 'MORE  THAN  ONE"  87 

unable  to  shake,  for  that  minute  of  semidarkness 
during  which  the  shot  was  fired ! ' '  Crane  retorted, 
rumpling  his  curly  brown  hair.  "Don't  you  see, 
gentlemen,  that  you've  got  merely  the  vaguest 
sort  of  circumstantial  evidence  as  to  why  the  mur- 
der was  committed,  but  not  even  an  idea  of  the 
possible  identity  of  the  murderer?  I'm  not  out 
here  to  discover  who  stole  that  necklace  or  hid  it 
in  that  lantern;  I'm  here  to  find  out  who  killed 
Jim  Doyle!" 

His  crisp,  clear-cut  tones  broke  slightly  as  he 
mentioned  the  name  of  his  late  associate,  but  his 
keen  gray  eyes  flashed,  and  he  set  his  jaw  in  no 
uncertain  lines.  The  dominating  force  of  the 
man's  personality,  together  with  his  peculiar  in- 
sight and  power  of  deduction,  which  had  gained 
him  his  reputation,  began  to  be  manifest  even  to 
the  local  authorities,  and  the  sheriff  exclaimed: 
* '  I  never  thought  of  that !  There  might  have  been 
more  than  one  of  them  in  the  plot!" 

"Doctor" — Crane  turned  to  the  coroner — "the 
most  superficial  examination  of  the  wound  should 
have  shown  the  general  direction  from  which  the 
shot  came." 

"It  did,"  Doctor  Fellowes  responded.  "I  told 
you  that  I  wouldn't  commit  myself  before  the 
autopsy,  but  I  have  already  given  you  my  unoffi- 


88       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

cial  opinion,  as  I  had  previously  given  it  to  Mr. 
Estridge  and  the  sheriff,  that  the  shot  was  fired 
from  a  distance  of  twenty  to  forty  feet,  straight 
in  front  of  Doyle.  Of  course  it  might  have  come 
from  a  little  to  the  left  or  right,  which  would  de- 
pend on  how  he  was  standing.  Only  the  autopsy 
will  show  the  depth  of  penetration  and  the  course 
of  the  bullet — whether  it  was  slightly  upward  or 
downward — but  it  undoubtedly  passed  through 
the  open  window  before  which  he  stood.'* 

11  That's  good  enough  as  a  working  basis." 
Crane's  glance  darted  to  the  attorney.  ''Mr. 
Estridge,  what  architect  designed  this  club1?" 

The  unexpected  question  made  the  others  eye 
each  other  in  surprise,  but,  as  though  following 
the  detective's  train  of  thought,  Estridge  smiled 
as  he  replied:  "Peter  van  Horn,  of  Hopping  & 
van  Horn,  in  the  city.  However,  a  copy  of  the 
plans  of  the  club,  drawn  to  scale,  are  filed  in  the 
secretary's  office  here,  and  I  am  sure  that  the  rest 
of  the  house  committee  will  be  glad  to  place  them 
at  your  disposal  at  any  time." 

"Thanks.  Then  suppose  we  join  those  of  your 
members  who  are  still  being  detained?"  Crane 
suggested.  "I  noticed  several  ladies  present,  and, 
as  Mr.  Sowerby  remarked  before,  it  is  nearly 
morning. " 


1  ' MORE  THAN  ONE"  89 

The  cold  light  of  dawn  was  indeed  faintly 
streaking  the  east  when  they  reentered  the  hall 
to  find  the  little  groups  much  as  they  had  left 
them,  save  that  Alice  Dare  had  fallen  asleep  on 
the  bench  that  had  been  brought  from  the  con- 
servatory, Mrs.  de  Forest  was  nodding  in  her 
chair,  and  Mrs.  Fraser  pacing  nervously  back 
and  forth.  Of  the  women,  only  Mrs.  Carter  main- 
tained her  attitude  of  impassive,  yet  alert,  calm. 
Crane,  after  discovering  that  the  majority  of  the 
members  and  guests  who  had  been  detained  were 
not  in  line  with  the  window,  dismissed  them  sum- 
marily. The  sheriff  turned  to  Mrs.  Carter. 

"Mrs.  Carter,  this  is  Mr.  Crane,  a  detective, 
who  has  come  out  from  town  to  look  into  the  death 
of  Mr.  Grant." 

Mrs.  Carter  bowed.  "Mr.  Crane's  reputation 
has  preceded  him, ' '  she  said  demurely.  '  *  We  did 
not  know  until  to-night,  however,  that  the  poor 
man,  whom  we  had  all  grown  to  like  and  trust  as 
the  new  house  secretary,  was  a  detective  also." 

"You  have  no  idea  why  he  wag  here,  Mrs. 
Carter?"  asked  Crane. 

Her  eyes  widened.  "I  cannot  imagine,  but  I 
suppose  the  house  committee  had  some  excellent 
reason.  I  have  scarcely  given  that  a  thought. 
His  death  and  the  manner  of  it  seem  all  a  part  of 


90       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

some  horrible  dream,  and  yet  I  stood  right  there ! ' ' 

"Where!" 

"At  the  foot  of  the  staircase.  I  was  coming 
down  from  the  ladies'  rest  room  on  the  second 
floor,  where  I  had  gone  to  remain  until  the  singing 
was  over."  She  paused.  "I  had  been  out  on  the 
veranda  and  had  seen  and  spoken  to  poor  Mr. 
Grant — or  whatever  his  name  was — only  a  few 
minutes  before.  Oh,  it  is  all  too  terrible  to 
realize ! ' ' 

"You  were  out  on  the  veranda!"  the  detective 
repeated. 

"Yes;  I  was  waiting  for  Mr.  Bowles  to  bring 
my  cloak.  I  have  not  been  well  lately,  and  so  much 
dancing  had  made  me  dizzy.  I  thought  a  breath 
of  fresh  air  would  do  me  good,  but  it  was  too  cold 
out  there,  and  I  decided  to  go  upstairs  and  rest 
until  supper.  I  did  go  up  and  lie  down  during  the 
final  dance,  but  when  the  lights  were  turned  out 
and  the  orchestra  commenced  the  first  bars  of 
'Auld  Lang  Syne,'  I  started  down  to  join  in  the 
singing  with  the  rest.  I  could  see  nothing  but 
shadowy  groups  of  people  standing  about  and  just 
the  faintest  glow  from  the  lanterns  on  the  ver- 
anda, and  I  had  to  feel  my  way  to  keep  from  fall- 
ing. I  had  just  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs 
when  the  sound  of  the  shot  came ! ' ' 


"MORE  THAN  ONE"  91 

She  paused  again  with  a  shudder,  but  the  de- 
tective inexorably  urged  her  on. 

"What  did  you  see  then,  Mrs.  Carter?  What 
did  you  hear?  What  were  your  impressions?" 

"I  don't  know!"  She  passed  a  hand  across 
her  eyes.  "It  was  all  confused,  like  some  hideous 
phase  of  delirium!  I  remember  a  dreadful, 
crumpling  sound  as  of  something  heavy  and  soft, 
falling — some  woman  screamed — it  may  have  been 
I,  but  I  was  unconscious  of  it.  I  have  a  vague 
recollection  of  some  man's  voice  calling  for  the 
lights  to  be-  turned  on,  and  then  they  flashed  sud- 
denly in  my  eyes,  and  everybody  rushed  forward, 
but  I  couldn't  move;  I  felt  as  though  I  had  turned 
to  stone!  I  don't  know  how  long  I  stood  there 
before  Mr.  Bowles  came  and  told  me  that  poor 
Mr.  Grant  had  been  shot — that  he  was  dead! 
Then  I  collapsed,  my  limbs  seemed  to  give  way 
beneath  me,  and  I  sat  down  on  the  stairs.  It  was 
only  gradually  that  I  became  aware  that  people 
were  fainting  and  hysterical  all  about  me.  I  was 
simply  stunned.  Really,  that  is  all  that  I  can  tell 
you,  Mr.  Crane." 

In  spite  of  the  repression,  which  it  was  evident 
that  she  had  placed  upon  herself,  her  face  ap- 
peared all  at  once  drawn  and  haggard,  and  Ren- 
wick  Crane,  with  a  softening  of  his  manner,  said, 


92       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

"Well,  with  the  permission  of  the  sheriff  and  the 
coroner,  we  won't  trouble  you  any  further,  Mrs. 
Carter.  You  live  near  here?" 

"Yes,  scarcely  a  mile  away,  at  the  Horton  Cot- 
tage. I  shall  be  glad  to  receive  you  there  at  any 
time  and  give  you  any  assistance  in  my  power,  but 
I  really  know  nothing  more  than  I  have  told  you." 
She  hesitated  before  she  added :  l  *  But  is  Mr. 
Bowles  going  to  take  me  home?  He  brought  me 
to  the  dance  last  night  in  his  car." 

The  eyes  of  the  others  turned  involuntarily  to 
the  fireplace,  before  which  Bowles  stood  with 
Ralph  Fraser  and  Gerald  Landon,  and  an  added 
tension  made  itself  manifest  in  the  air.  As  though 
conscious  of  it  himself,  the  broker  unconsciously 
squared  his  shoulders  as  he  advanced,  and, 
although  he  smiled  with  an  assumption  of  ease, 
his  eyes  shifted  slightly  before  he  met  the  detec- 
tive's gaze. 

"By  Jove,  I  believe  Estridge,  Landon,  and  my- 
self are  the  only  ones  left  who  haven't  given  an 
account  of  ourselves  yet  for  those  fateful  moments 
when  the  lights  were  out!"  he  exclaimed  with  a 
laugh.  "Estridge,  of  course,  is  out  of  it." 

"I  should  think  he  was !"  said  Sowerby,  glaring. 
"I've  known  Sam  Estridge  all  my  life,  and,  more- 


"MORE  THAN  ONE"  93 

over,  lie  was  in  the  card  room  watching  a  bridge 
game  when  the  shot  was  fired.  I  would  have  been 
out  on  the  veranda  myself  as  quick  as  he  was  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  my  gout  and  the  fact  that  some 
fool  woman  got  in  my  way ! ' ' 

"And  I,"  said  Bowles,  "can  attest  to  Mr.  Lan- 
don's  presence  here  in  the  main  hall.  Doubtless  a 
score  of  others  can  give  the  same  testimony.*' 
Bowies'  smile  had  become  less  strained.  "I  saw 
him,  but  whether  he  saw  me  or  not  I  don't  know. 
I  was  standing  alone  in  the  door  leading  to  the 
smaller  supper  room — that  one  over  there,  to  the 
right  of  -the  steward's  desk.  Mrs.  Carter  had 
promised  me  the  final  dance  before  the  singing, 
and,  when  at  the  last  moment  she  decided  that 
she  must  go  upstairs  and  rest  until  supper,  I  told 
her  that  I  would  be  waiting  for  her  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs  after  the  singing.  She  was  to  go 
in  to  supper  with  me.  During  the  final  dance  I 
went  into  the  smaller  supper  room  to  see  that 
our  table  had  been  arranged,  and,  when  the  jazz 
music  abruptly  ceased  and  the  string  orchestra 
started  up  the  introduction  to  'Auld  Lang  Syne,' 
I  came  to  the  door  to  add  my  voice  to  the  general 
chorus.  It  was  then  that  I  saw  Mr.  Landon  stand- 
ing in  the  conservatory  door  opposite.  I  remained 


94       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

where  I  was  until  the  sound  of  the  shot  came. 
Then  I  rushed  out  upon  the  veranda  with  the 
rest." 

There  was  a  slight  pause,  and  then,  as  it  was 
broken  by  neither  the  sheriff  nor  the  coroner, 
Renwick  Crane  asked :  ' '  You  live  here  in  Brook- 
lands,  Mr.  Bowles?" 

"No,  I  merely  run  out  occasionally  and  put  up 
here  at  the  club  if  there  is  room;  if  not,  at  the 
Brooklands  Inn.  I  am  a  broker  with  offices  in 
Wall  Street  and  a  bachelor  apartment  in  town  at 
the  Margrave.  I  shall  hold  myself  unreservedly  at 
your  service  and  that  of  the  authorities  here." 
He  paused  and  added  with  his  old,  easy  manner : 
"As  a  member  of  this  club,  I  feel  as  deeply  as 
any  of  the  rest  can  the  fact  that  this  poor  fellow 
came  to  his  death  in  the  performance  of  his  duty, 
even  though  I  was  not  in  the  confidence  of  the 
house  committee  and  I  did  not  dream  that  he  was 
other  than  he  appeared." 

"Well,"  the  sheriff  remarked  after  a  glance  at 
the  coroner  who  nodded,  "I  guess,  if  Mr.  Crane 
don't  want  to  ask  you  any  more  questions  just 
now,  we  won't  keep  you  longer  from  taking  Mrs. 
Carter  home.  Did  you  notice  Mr.  Bowles,  Mr. 
Landon!" 

"No,   I   was   watching   the   dancers,   but   I'm 


"MORE  THAN  ONE"  95 

mighty  glad  he  saw  me,  for  I,  too,  was  alone," 
the  young  man  responded  frankly.  "I  ran  out 
on  the  veranda  with  the  rest  when  Grant  was  shot, 
and  Mr.  Estridge,  who  had  taken  charge,  asked 
me  to  call  Mr.  Sowerby.  I  am  employed  in  town 
in  the  bank  of  which  Mr.  Sowerby  is  president.  I 
am  not  a  member  of  this  club,  but  a  guest  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Fraser,  with  whom  I  am  staying." 

"Since  every  one  now  present  has  accounted 
for  himself  or  has  been  accounted  for,  may  I  sug- 
gest that  all  may  be  permitted  to  leave?"  Samuel 
Estridge  remarked.  "Mr.  Crane  will  be  accom- 
modated here  at  the  club,  of  course,  and  it  may  be 
that  you  gentlemen  would  like  to  question  the 
stewards  and  other  attendants." 

He  turned  to  the  sheriff  and  coroner,  and,  after 
a  brief  consultation  between  them,  the  latter  an- 
nounced: "Mr.  Estridge  is  right.  All  of  you  are 
well  known  to  me,  and  most  of  you  are  my  pa- 
tients; I  think  I  can  depend  upon  your  presence 
at  the  inquest.  Sheriff  Coburn  and  I  represent 
the  county  authorities,  and  Mr.  Crane  is  working 
with  us.  I  know  you'll  give  him  all  the  assistance 
you  can,  and  in  the  meantime  we  won't  detain 
you  any  longer." 

During  the  bustle  of  departure  which  ensued, 
Crane  observed  that  Mrs.  de  Forest  made  an 


96       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

almost  imperceptible  gesture  toward  him  and  th'en 
walked  into  the  ladies'  cloak  room,  imperiously 
waving  back  her  niece.  Mrs.  Fraser  was  already 
wrapped  in  her  cloak,  and  Bowles  was  solicitously 
assisting  Mrs.  Carter  with  hers  in  the  foyer.  The 
detective,  as  unobtrusively  as  possible,  managed 
to  slip  away.  He  followed  the  elderly  woman  and 
found  her  alone. 

"Shut  the  door!"  she  commanded  without  pre- 
amble, and,  when  he  had  complied,  she  faced  him 
before  the  long  mirror.  "Young  man,  the  sheriff 
is  a  good  detective  of  chicken  thieves,  and  as  a 
coroner,  Doctor  Fellowes  may  be  efficient  in  ordi- 
nary cases,  but  I've  heard  of  you  and  some  of  the 
things  which  you  have  accomplished,  and  I'm 
going  to  trust  you." 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  de  Forest,"  he  responded 
with  immense  respect.  "Do  you  mean  that  you 
heard  or  saw  something  which  you  have  not  men- 
tioned? Have  you  a  possible  theory  as  to  who 
shot  my  former  associate?" 

"I've  lived  too  long  to  form  theories  about 
anything,  and  you  needn't  thank  me  until  you 
learn  how  trivial  a  supposition  I  have  to  suggest 
to  you!"  she  retorted.  "I  caught  only  a  glimpse 
of  the  body  on  the  veranda.  The  sound  of  the 
shooting  had  stunned  me  for  a  moment,  and  I 


"MORE  THAN  ONE"  97 

was  slow  in  rising  from  my  chair;  I  had  scarcely 
reached  the  door  when  Mr.  Estridge  ordered 
everybody  back,  and  I  was  not  sorry.  I  am  not 
squeamish  ordinarily,  but  neither  have  I  any 
hysterically  morbid  tendencies,  and  I  had  no  desire 
to  look  upon  the  result  of  a  tragedy  for  which  I 
felt  indirectly  responsible.  It  was  on  my  behalf 
that  your  unfortunate  colleague  was  engaged  to 
come  here." 

She  paused,  and  the  detective,  who  had  not 
shifted  his  gaze  from  her  face,  seized  quickly  upon 
one  salient  phrase  which  she  had  used. 

"You  say  'the  sound  of  the  shooting,'  Mrs.  de 
Forest,"  he  repeated.  "I  understood  that  only 
one  shot  was  fired." 

Mrs.  de  Forest's  stately  shoulders  rose  in  a 
slight  shrug. 

"So  they  tell  me,"  she  replied.  "As  I  have 
just  informed  you,  I  did  not  catch  more  than  a 
glimpse  of  poor  Mr.  Grant 's  body,  but  I  gathered 
from  the  gruesome  details  imparted  to  me  that 
there  was  but  one  wound.  Nevertheless,  although 
I  am  getting  on  in  years,  Mr.  Crane,  my  senses 
are,  I  think,  still  unimpaired,  and  I  fancied — I 
could  almost  have  sworn — that  two  distinct,  but 
practically  simultaneous,  detonations  rang  through 
the  rotunda.  It  may  have  been  merely  the  echo, 


98       THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

of  course,  the  effect  of  the  acoustics,  or  just  an  old 
woman's  notion.  I  offer  it  to  you  for  what  it  may 
be  worth. ' ' 

"And  I  accept  it  most  gratefully,"  Renwick 
Crane  assured  her  in  a  very  sober  tone.  "I  shall 
not  betray  your  confidence,  but  I  will  give  the  pos- 
sibility you  have  suggested  my  fullest  attention. 
It  may  be  that  more  than  one  person  was  con- 
cerned in  the  theft  of  your  necklace,  and  more 
than  one  person  in  the  murder  of  Jim  Doyle ! ' ' 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  MAN   IN   THE  BUSHES 

"1 71  THEN  0 'Hare's  star  detective  finally  escorted 
*  *  Mrs.  de  Forest  back  to  the  entrance  hall 
they  found  it  occupied  solely  by  the  latter 's  niece. 
Alice  Dare  rose  sleepily  at  their  approach. 

1  'Are  you  ready  to  go  home  now,  auntie?"  she 
asked  in  the  dazed  accents  of  a  child  suddenly 
awakened.  "The  car's  been  waiting  for  ever  so 
long. ' ' 

"Then  it  can  wait  a  few  minutes  longer!"  the 
elderly  lady  retorted  tartly.  "Alice,  this  is  Mr. 
Crane.  He  has  come  out  to  investigate  the  death 
of  that  other  detective.  My  niece,  Alice  Dare." 

The  sleepy  look  vanished  all  at  once  from  the 
girl's  eyes.  In  its  place  there  came  a  swift  gleam 
of  apprehension,  but  she  responded  to  the  intro- 
duction and  added  hesitatingly:  "It — it  was  ter- 
rible, of  course,  Mr.  Crane!  I  do  hope  you  will 
be  able  to  find  out  who  did  it.  How  could  any 
one " 

09 


100     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

* '  Alice ! ' '  her  aunt  interrupted  her.  '  *  I  managed 
to  keep  my  eyes  on  you  most  of  the  evening,  but  I 
couldn't  locate  you  every  minute  in  the  crowd 
that  was  here.  Where  were  you  standing  when 
the  lights  were  lowered  for  the  singing  at  mid- 
night?" 

* '  Auntie ! ' '  Horrified  incredulity  sharpened  the 
girl's  tones.  "Surely  you  and — and  Mr.  Crane 
don't  think  that  I  saw  anything !  Wouldn't  I  have 
told  ?  I  had  the  last  dance  with  Mr.  Jack  Fraser, 
and  when  the  clock  struck  twelve  and  the  music 
stopped  so  abruptly,  we  halted  over  there,  just 
between  the  doors  of  the  billiard  room  and  the 
entrance  of  the  conservatory.  We  stood  there 
together,  my  hand  still  tucked  in  his  arm,  and 
sang  with  the  rest  until — until  that  awful  shot 
came.  Mrs.  Jack  and  Mr.  Ralph  Fraser  were  just 
beside  us." 

"Let  me  see."  Ren  wick  Crane  gazed  specu- 
latively  across  the  big,  almost  circular  hall.  "If 
you  stood  near  the  door  of  the  billiard  room,  Miss 
Dare,  only  the  door  of  the  secretary's  office  and 
the  hall  leading  to  the  rear  separated  you  from 
the  main  staircase.  In  that  case,  you,  your  part- 
ner, and  the  other  couple  were  not  at  an  acute 
angle  from  the  window  there,  where  the  dragon 
lantern  hung.  Although  you  were  not  in  a  direct 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BUSHES          101 

line  with  it,  of  course,  had  you  any  idea,  any  im- 
pression of  the  direction  from  which  the  shot  was 
fired?" 

"Why,  no!"  she  said.  "I  didn't  even  know  it- 
was  a  shot  until  the  lights  went  up  and  everybody 
rushed  out  on  the  veranda!  I  was  carried  along 
with  the  crowd,  but  I  didn't  realize  what  had 
happened.  If  any  impression  came  to  me  at  all  it 
was  that  the  noise  was  outside — the  back-firing  of 
one  of  the  cars  or  a  bursting  tire.  Couldn't  the 
shot  have  come  from  out  there,  somewhere?  It 
seemed  to  sort  of  echo." 

Mrs.  de  Forest  darted  a  quick  glance  at  the 
detective,  but  his  face  remained  impassive. 

"Anything  is  possible  at  this  stage  of  the  in- 
vestigation, Miss  Dare,"  he  responded.  Then, 
turning  to  the  older  woman,  he  added :  "I  will  not 
detain  you  ladies  any  longer.  May  I  escort  you  to 
your  car?  You  must  both  be  very  tired,  and  I 
have  much  to  do  in  the  next  few  hours." 

When  he  reentered  the  deserted  hall,  Crane 
paused  for  a  time  on  the  threshold.  Meditatively 
he  surveyed  the  main  staircase  directly  opposite, 
the  two  small  offices — one  open,  one  so  signifi- 
cantly closed — which  flanked  it,  and  the  various 
doors  and  alcove  entrances  to  other  rooms  of  the 
club. 


102     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

Drawing  an  envelope  and  pencil  from  his  pocket, 
he  made  a  rapid  sketch,  placing  crosses  and  ini- 
tials here  and  there.  With  a  satisfied  nod  he 
returned  them  to  his  pocket  just  as  the  coroner 
appeared  in  the  hall  leading  to  the  rear. 

"I  thought  you  had  gone,  doctor,"  he  remarked. 
"I've  just  got  rid  of  the  last  of  the  club  members 
who  were  here  when  I  arrived.  I  presume  you 
have  depositions  from  those  who  had  already 
left?" 

' '  The  sheriff  and  I  got  what  we  could  from  them, 
but  it  wasn't  much — mostly  hysteria  on  the  part 
of  the  women  and  a  muddle  of  conflicting  and  un- 
wanted opinions  on  the  part  of  the  men,"  Doctor 
Fellowes  replied.  "With  the  exception  of  a  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Dorrance  and  Mrs.  Sowerby,  those  you 
met  were  the  only  ones,  as  far  as  we  have  been 
able  to  discover,  Mr.  Crane,  who  seemed  capable 
of  giving  us  any  assistance  in  our  investigation. 
The  only  members  or  guests,  I  mean.  Murdook, 
the  steward,  was  behind  his  desk — there  to  the 
left  of  the  staircase.  I've  just  come  from  having 
a  little  talk  with  him." 

"I  should  like  to  interview  him  myself  if  it  is 
not  too  late,"  remarked  Crane.  "Those  three 
members  of  the  house  committee  have  gone  home, 
I  suppose!" 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BUSHES          103 

Doctor  Fellowes  chuckled.  "Mr.  Fraser  took 
his  wife  home,  and  his  brother  accompanied  him, 
but  old  President  Sowerby  wouldn't  budge  a  foot 
until  they  telephoned  from  his  house  that  his  wife 
was  in  hysterics.  He  went  then,  all  right,  but 
you  could  hear  him  swearing  all  down  the 
drive.  His  voice  covered  the  noise  of  his  car. 
He's  afraid  he'll  miss  something,  or  Lawyer 
Estridge  will  get  in  ahead  of  him  on  the  investi- 
gation. ' ' 

"Is  Mr.  Estridge  still  here?" 

"Yes.  He  is  waiting  in  the  billiard  room  for 
a  word  with  you  when  you  have  finished  inter- 
viewing the  witnesses.  Murdock  will  stay  up  until 
Mr.  Bowles  returns.  He'll  show  you  to  your  room 
and  see  that  you  are  comfortable.  He's  an  odd 
character — that  steward,"  the  coroner  added  re- 
flectively. "I've  known  him  around  here  ever 
since  the  club  was  built,  and  I  can't  make  him 
out.  Anybody  can  see  that  he's  taking  what  hap- 
pened last  night  mighty  hard,  and  yet,  for  all 
that,  he  doesn't  forget  a  detail  of  his  duties.  He 
appears  to  be  half  man  and  half  machine. ' ' 

"Oh,  well,  if  he  is  going  to  tuck  me  in  to-night — 
or  rather,  this  morning — I  won't  bother  to  talk 
to  him  now.  I  think  I'll  see  what  Mr.  Estridge 
wants  with  me  and  then  turn  in  for  an  hour. 


104     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

I  suppose  that  Murdock  is  not  in  solitary 
charge  I ' ' 

Doctor  Fellowes  responded  to  the  implied  ques- 
tion with  simple  directness. 

"Sheriff  Coburn  is  on  the  job,  and  he-  has  an 
eye  on  him  as  well  as  on  all  the  rest  within  doors. 
I  think  you  must  have  seen  the  constable  on  the 
porch  out  there  just  now.  We've  no  more  occa- 
sion to  suspect  Murdock  than  any  one  else  in  the 
building.  I'm  bound  to  tell  you,  Mr.  Crane,  that 
we've  searched  the  club  from  top  to  bottom, 
and  we  can't  afford  to  take  chances  on  anybody 
leaving  it  now,  who  either  belongs  here  or  might 
have  sneaked  in  past  the  guards  in  the  grounds. 
"Well,  I'll  get  on  home  and  to  bed  for  an  hour 
or  two  before  the  autopsy." 

"Before  you  do  perform  it,  doctor,  I  wish  you'd 
phone  to  me  up  here  at  the  club.  I  want  to  come 
down  and  have  a  look  at  the  body  as  it  was  when 
you  first  saw  it,"  Crane  said  earnestly.  "I'm  not 
asking  this  for  sentimental  reasons  alone,  though 
I  liked  Jim,  and  we'd  wrorked  on  many  a  case  to- 
gether, but  because  it  may  help  me  in  my  own 
investigation.  We  are  not  rivals,  you  know,  sir, 
but  partners — you  and  the  sheriff  and  I — and  it 
is  not  my  chief's  wish  or  mine  to  have  me  appear 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BUSHES          105 

in  the  case  at  all.  The  only  thing  we  are  after 
is  to  find  out  who  murdered  Jim  Doyle  and  have 
the  guilty  party  get  what's  coming  to  him  or  to 
them." 

The  coroner  held  out  his  hand.  "I'm  sure  of 
that,  Mr.  Crane,  and  I'll  be  glad  to  phone  to  you 
in  time.  If  you  and  your  chief  want  to  avenge  the 
death  of  one  of  your  own  men,  Sheriff  Coburn  and 
I — even  more  than  the  members  of  this  club — be- 
cause we're  natives  here — want  to  find  out  the 
truth  and  clear  the  name  of  the  village  as  well 
as  the  club  of  Broadlawns.  I  guess  we  can  work 
together,  all  right!  Good  night,  or  rather,  good 
morning !" 

The  genial  doctor  departed,  and  Crane  turned 
thoughtfully  toward  the  billiard  room.  Within, 
stretched  out  upon  one  of  the  wide  leather  seats, 
which  divided  the  wall  space  with  the  cue  racks, 
he  found  Samuel  Estridge.  The  lawyer's  eyes 
were  closed  and  his  hands  were  peacefully  relaxed 
at  his  sides. 

Thinking  that  the  other  was  asleep,  the  detec- 
tive was  about  to  retreat,  but  Estridge  opened  his 
eyes  and  arose.  ' '  Have  you  finished  with  the  wit- 
nesses, Crane?"  he  asked.  "I  don't  want  to  urge 
you  to  tell  me  anything  that  you  would  prefer  to 


106     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

keep  to  yourself  at  this  time.  I  haven't  waited 
here  to  bother  you  with  my  half-baked  theories, 
but  to  offer  you  any  possible  assistance  that  I  can. 
As  the  secretary  of  the  club  and  one  of  its  old 
members,  I  may  be  able  to  help  you  with  the  iden- 
tity and  the  position  of  the  members.  Murdock, 
the  steward,  can  furnish  you  with  a  list  of  the 
entire  club  membership,  and  the  coroner,  being 
the  general  medical  practitioner  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, could  probably  tell  you  a  great  deal  about 
their  idiosyncrasies,  but " 

He  paused  suggestively,  and  Crane  smiled  and 
finished  for  him.  "But  he  represents  the  local 
authorities,  at  least  until  the  inquest.  I  do  not 
think  he  could  tell  me  anything,  Mr.  Estridge, 
that  would  be  of  material  assistance  to  me  at  this 
stage  of  my  investigation,  but  you  can  help  me  a 
lot  if  you  will.  Just  who,  for  instance,  are  the 
Erasers?" 

"Thoroughly  good  people  in  every  way,"  re- 
plied the  attorney  emphatically.  "I'd  vouch  for 
them  personally  any  time.  Jack  Eraser  is  man- 
ager of  the  Mexamer  Oil  Company's  New  York 
branch,  and  his  wife  is  a  fine  little  woman.  They 
have  lived  out  here  for  six  or  seven  years." 

"And  Mr.  Jack  Eraser's  brother?"  pursued 
Crane. 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BUSHES          107 

"He's  something  of  a  stranger  here,  the  guest 
of  the  Jack  Erasers.  Ralph  Eraser  comes  from 
Texas,  and  President  Sowerby  likes  him;  he's 
had  some  dealings  with  him  at  the  bank.  He 
seems  to  be  all  right."  Estridge  paused  suddenly 
and  then  added :  '  *  He  might  be  of  some  technical 
assistance  to  you,  for  I  understand  that  he  is  quite 
an  amateur  enthusiast  about  weapons  of  all  kinds, 
especially  firearms." 

"I  may  call  upon  him.  What  about  the  young 
girl — the  niece  of  Mrs.  de  Forest — she  is  an  heir- 
ess, isn't  she?"  asked  the  detective  perfunctorily. 

Estridge  smiled  in  his  turn. 

"On  the  contrary,  the  child  is  an  orphan  with- 
out a  penny  of  her  own,  but,  according  to  present 
indications,  she  will  not  be  dependent  upon  her 
aunt  for  long.  That  good-looking  Landon  boy, 
who  is  a  house  guest  of  the  Erasers,  has  a  respon- 
sible position  in  Sowerby 's  bank  and — but  I'm 
talking  like  a  gossipy,  romantic  old  maid!"  He 
shrugged  good-naturedly.  "Anybody  else  I  can 
tip  you  off  about?" 

"I  haven't  interviewed  Murdock  yet,  but  the 
coroner  says  he  is  an  odd  sort  of  character," 
Crane  remarked. 

The  attorney  eyed  him  keenly  for  a  minute. 
"We've  always  found  Murdock  straight  enough," 


108     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

he  said  at  last.  "He's  a  taciturn  person,  but 
there  has  never  been  any  criticism  as  to  the  way 
he  performed  his  duties.  Beyond  that  I  do  not 
believe  that  we've  thought  much  about  him,  one 
way  or  another." 

"I  see,"  Crane  replied.  "Do  the  other  people 
whom  I  interviewed  to-night  all  belong  to  the 
club!  The  red-haired  lady,  Mrs.  Carter,  for  one 
instance  ? ' ' 

"Yes.  She  came  here  two  or  three  years  ago 
from  the  South  and  bought  the  Horton  cottage." 
Once  more  Estridge's  gaze  narrowed.  "As  I  told 
you,  I  do  not  want  to  force  your  confidence,  Crane, 
but  why  do  you  ask  about  these  people  in  par- 
ticular?" 

"I  am  going  to  take  you  into  my  confidence, 
Mr.  Estridge."  The  detective  spoke  frankly. 
"Preposterous  as  it  may  appear  to  mention  any 
of  them  in  connection  with  the  case,  I  have  discov- 
ered so  far  in  my  investigation  six  people,  and 
only  six,  who,  from  their  positions  alone,  could 
have  fired  through  that  window  before  which  the 
dragon  lantern  hung.  It  is  possible,  of  course, 
that  some  one  may  have  crouched  in  the  rear  hall 
beside  the  main  staircase  and  after  shooting  have 
retreated  in  the  direction  of  the  kitchen  and  pan- 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BUSHES          109 

tries,  but  we  must  take  up  the  more  obvious  sup- 
positions first.  Murdock  was  behind  his  desk,  and 
Mrs.  Carter  on  the  staircase." 

The  attorney  frowned.  "Except  in  your  ordi- 
nary routine  I  think  Mrs.  Carter  may  safely  be 
eliminated,  but  you  spoke  of  six  persons.  Who 
were  the  other  four?" 

'  *  The  two  Fraser  brothers  and  Mrs.  Jack  Fraser 
with  little  Miss  Dare  stood  here,  near  the  door 
of  the  billiard  room.  This  room,  as  you  know,  is 
separated  by  the  secretary's  locked  door  and  the 
narrow  rear  hall  from  the  main  staircase.  These 
are  the  only  people  I  have  as  yet  found  who  were 
within  a  radius  of  that  window. ' ' 

Samuel  Estridge  paced  thoughtfully  across  the 
room.  When  he  turned  the  frown  had  disappeared, 
and  his  face  resumed  its  wonted  impassivity,  as 
though  a  mask  had  fallen  over  it,  obliterating  all 
expression. 

"I  am  glad  that  we  are  speaking  confidentially, 
Mr.  Crane,  for  you  can  realize  that  I  am  in  rather 
a  delicate  position  as  one  of  the  house  committee," 
he  remarked  smoothly.  "As  I  told  you  I  have  no 
possible  theory  to  offer,  but  may  I  voice  a  sugges- 
tion? Is  there  a  chance  that  the  shot  which  killed 
Doyle  might  have  been  intended  for  another?  I 


110     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

mean,  could  he  have  been  mistaken  in  the  shadows 
outside  the  window  for  some  one  else!" 

The  detective  shook  his  head.  *  *  The  bullet  which 
killed  Jim  Doyle  was  intended  for  him  alone,"  he 
responded  decidedly.  ' '  It  is  a  pity  that  you  your- 
self were  not  nearer  than  the  cardroom  at  that 
moment,  Mr.  Estridge.  I  should  like  to  have  had 
your  opinion  of  the  sound  of  that  shot!" 

"There  were  many  other  people  in  the  rotunda 
at  the  time,"  Estridge  remarked.  "It  appears 
almost  a  miracle  that  the  bullet  should  have 
threaded  its  way  among  them  to  the  window,  but 
I  presume  that,  when  the  dancing  stopped,  they 
insensibly  divided  into  little  groups  and  backed 
against  the  wall,  leaving  the  center  of  the  hall 
clear.  You  haven't  interviewed  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Philip  Dorrance,  or  Mrs.  Rutherford  Sowerby. 
They  were  permitted  to  depart  before  your 
arrival.  But,  I  believe,  they  were  also  in  the 
rotunda  when  the  lights  were  lowered  for  the  sing- 
ing. Then  there  is  another  guest  of  the  club, 
Ogden  Bowles — but  I  forgot.  He  was  standing  in 
the  door  of  the  smaller  supper  room,  out  of  range, 
wasn't  he?" 

There  was  a  wearied  note  in  the  attorney's 
tones,  but  it  was  now  Crane's  turn  to  regard  the 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BUSHES          111 

other  sharply.  In  court  Estridge  had  never  been 
known  to  let  the  most  minor  and  irrelevant  detail 
of  a  case  slip  his  alert  mind.  What  the  detective 
read  in  his  countenance,  however,  was  merely  a 
look  of  blank  fatigue,  and  he  decided  that  there 
was  nothing  further  to  be  gained  by  prolonging 
the  interview. 

"I'll  see  the  rest  of  them  later,  and,  in  the  mean- 
time, I  won't  detain  you  now,  Mr.  Estridge.  I've 
got  to  have  a  talk  with  Murdock  and  then  get  an 
hour's  sleep  before  I  tackle  the  job  again." 

"I  have  a  small  cottage  near  here  where  I  keep 
bachelor 's  hall.  Any  one  can  direct  you  to  it.  If 
you  care  to  come  to  me  in  strict  confidence,  as  you 
have  just  now,  I  shall  be  glad  to  give  you  the 
assistance  of  any  inform  a  tioii  which  may  occur 
to  me."  The  attorney  held  out  his  hand.  "Until 
I  see  you  again,  Mr.  Crane." 

The  village  constable  had  long  since  ceased  his 
vigil  when  the  two  emerged  upon  the  veranda,  and 
the  dragon  lantern,  in  common  with  all  the  others, 
had  vanished.  Before  the  window  where  it  had 
hung,  instead  of  the  sinister  crimson  stain,  there 
now  appeared  a  freshly  scrubbed  space  upon  the 
floor,  which  glistened  in  a  ray  of  the  morning  sun, 
and  the  steward  arose  from  his  knees  at  their 


112     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

approach.  He  seemed  as  little  disconcerted,  as 
though  the  brush  and  pail  were  his  usual  imple- 
ments of  employment,  but  he  addressed  himself 
apologetically  to  the  attorney. 

"None  of  the  servants  would  touch  this,  sir, 
and,  after  taking  down  the  lanterns,  I  thought 
best " 

"You  took  down  the  lanterns?"  Estridge  asked. 

"Just  now,  sir.'*  The  deprecation  deepened 
in  his  tone.  "It  should  have  been  done  before,  but 
a  person  from  the  village  told  me  he  had  orders 
that  nothing  was  to  be  disturbed,  indoors  or 
out." 

"Ah,  quite  right;  that  was  the  constable,  no 
doubt."  Estridge  turned  to  Crane  and,  indicating 
the  steward,  announced:  "This  is  Murdock.  He 
will  show  you  to  your  room  and  answer  any  ques- 
tions you  may  choose  to  put  to  him." 

Murdock  bowed  slightly.  "Mr.  Crane's  room 
is  ready  for  him,  sir.  The  coroner  told  me  to 
have  it  prepared. ' '  He  seemed  scarcely  to  glance 
at  the  detective,  but  addressed  himself  once  more 
to  the  attorney.  "Here  is  your  car  being  brought 
around  now,  sir.  Mr.  Bowles  returned  a  few  mo- 
ments ago  and  retired  at  once,  but  he  instructed 
me  to  awaken  him  if  he  could  be  of  any  service  to 
you." 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BUSHES         113 

"He  cannot.  I  am  going  home  and  follow  his 
example,  Murdook.  So  long,  Mr.  Crane,  and  good 
luck."  Estridge  descended  the  steps  and  was 
climbing  into  his  car  when  a  subdued  hubbub  arose 
from  around  the  east  corner  of  the  veranda,  and 
a  man  appeared,  his  bulldog  features  alive  with 
excitement. 

"Mr.  Estridge!  Stop  a  minute,  sir!  There's 
been  more  dirty  work  here  last  night !  One  of  our 
boys,  that  was  stationed  on  the  lawn  on  that  side 
of  the  house,  is  lying  in  a  clump  of  bushes  with  a 
gash  on  the  back  of  his  head  that  you  could  put 
your  two  fingers  in!" 

Estridge  started  back  as  Crane  descended  the 
steps.  The  detective  explained,  a  slight  tremble 
for  once  manifest  in  his  level  tones,  "It  is  one  of 
the  special  men  I  had  sent  out  from  the  city  for 
last  night.  He  isn't  dead,  Saunders?" 

"No,  but  he's  dead  to  the  world!"  Saunders 
responded.  "He's  laid  out  with  one  of  the  nasti- 
est swipes  I  ever  saw,  and  I'm  blessed  if  I  know 
how  any  one  could  have  got  to  him  and  hit  him 
hard  enough  with  this  to  lay  his  head  open ! ' ' 

As  he  spoke  he  held  out  in  the  palm  of  his  hand 
something  which  glittered  in  the  sun,  and  the 
attorney  motioned  to  Crane  to  take  it.  The  latter 
complied,  and,  after  an  instant's  glance  at  it,  he 


114     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

and  Estridge  gazed  at  each  other  in  wordless 
questioning. 

The  object  which  the  detective  held  was  a  tiny 
pistol  almost  as  small  as  a  toy,  but  upon  its  highly- 
polished  barrel  appeared  a  dark  blotch ;  the  second 
sinister  indication  they  were  to  behold  of  that 
night's  work. 


CHAPTER  VHI 

IN   THE   BOXWOOD   BUSHES 

and  call  the  sheriff,  Murdock!"  Estridge 
turned  with  a  start  to  where  the  steward 
stood  gaping  at  them  from  the  veranda.  Then  to 
Saunders  he  added:  "Show  Mr.  Crane  and  my- 
self where  he  is.  Which  one  of  the  boys  is  it? 
Who  found  him?" 

Saunders  stared  at  the  mention  of  the  private 
detective's  name.  Rousing  himself  he  replied  to 
the  last  question  first. 

"I  did,  sir.  The  head  cook  was  having  us  in 
the  kitchen  in  relays  for  some  hot  coffee,  and  I 
went  looking  for  Pete  Lindsay — that's  who  it  is. 
He  was  on  the  stand  for  you  in  the  Lockwood  case. 
I  knew  about  where  he'd  been  stationed  last  night, 
and  I  called,  but  got  no  answer,  and  finally  I  see 
the  two  feet  of  him  sticking  out  from  underneath 
these  bushes." 

While  he  talked  Saunders  had  led  them  around 

115 


116     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

the  corner  of  the  club  house  to  a  clump  of  ancient 
boxwood.  Here,  on  the  edge  of  the  driveway,  a 
short,  stocky  figure  lay  motionless.  The  man's 
broad,  freckled  face  was  upturned  in  the  sunlight, 
and  his  arms  were  extended  helplessly  above  his 
head. 

"I  dragged  him  out  by  the  feet,  just  after  your 
car  passed  around  to  the  front,  Mr.  Estridge," 
explained  Saunders.  "The  little  toy  pistol  was 
winking  up  at  me  from  the  grass,  and  I  picked  it 
up,  and  then,  as  I  turn  Pete  over  and  see  that  he 
was  still  breathing,  I  didn't  stop  to  call  for  any- 
body, but  I  ran  to  catch  you  before  you  should 
beat  it  away." 

"He  was  lying  squarely  on  his  back  in  the 
bushes'?"  Crane  spoke  for  the  first  time. 

"No,  on  his  side.  His  feet  was  kind  of  twisted 
one  over  the  other."  Saunders  glanced  again  at 
the  tiny  weapon  in  the  detective's  grasp.  "It 
must  have  taken  a  guy  with  an  arm  like  a  pile 
driver  to  crown  him  and  lay  him  out  cold  with 
that  toy  thing,  let  alone  to  sneak  up  on  him  from 
behind  through  those  thick  bushes." 

"That  is  just  what  I  was  thinking,"  Crane  re- 
marked. Thrusting  the  pistol  into  his  hip  pocket, 
he  suddenly  dived  into  the  mass  of  shrubbery,  just 
as  Sheriff  Coburn  appeared  on  the  run,  the 


IN  THE  BOXWOOD  BUSHES         117 

anxious-eyed  Murdock  trotting  discreetly  in  the 
rear.  Between  them  they  carried  the  unconscious 
man  into  the  clubhouse  and  placed  him  on  the 
steward's  bed.  Estridge  went  to  the  private  tele- 
phone booth  in  the  locker  room  to  summon  Doctor 
Fellowes. 

In  the  excitement  none  of  them  had  observed 
the  fact  that  the  detective  had  not  accompanied 
them  within  doors.  As  the  attorney  emerged  from 
the  booth  he  found  Crane  awaiting  him. 

"What  do  you  think  of  this  latest  development, 
Mr.  Estridge?"  the  latter  asked. 

"Frankly  I  am  almost  past  the  stage  of  coherent 
thought!"  Estridge  responded.  "I  have  handled 
many  a  bizarre  case  in  court  in  my  time,  but  this 
outranks  them  all!  Of  course  that  terrific  blow 
on  Lindsay's  head  could  never  have  been  caused 
by  the  tiny  weapon  which  Saunders  found,  no 
matter  what  strength  lay  behind  it — that  is  a  fore- 
gone conclusion." 

"Not  if  the  pistol  were  used  to  strike  with, 
perhaps,  but  suppose  it  had  been  thrown?" 

"What!" 

"A  missile  as  light  and  small  as  that,  if  flung 
from  a  distance  and — let  us  say — a  height  of  one 
story  from  the  ground,  might  have  caused  such  a 
wound,  provided  that  Lindsay's  back  was  turned 


118     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

to  the  house  and  his  head  uncovered."  Then,  as 
the  attorney  still  stared,  Crane  continued:  "If 
he  were  lighting  his  pipe,  contrary  to  orders,  and 
had  taken  off  his  cap  to  shield  the  flame  of  the 
match  that  pistol  thrown  at  random  from  one  of 
the  upper  windows  might  well  have  found  an 
unintentional  mark. ' ' 

"Great  heavens!"  Estridge  exclaimed.  "But 
who  was  upstairs?" 

"I  should  very  much  like  to  know  who  was  on 
the  second  floor  when  the  lights  were  lowered  at 
midnight,  or  who  might  have  slipped  past  Mrs. 
Carter  on  the  stairs,  immediately  after  the  shot 
was  fired."  There  was  a  note  of  added  serious- 
ness in  the  detective 's  tones.  "I  found  these  in 
the  bushes  just  now.  They  must  have  dropped 
from  Lindsay's  hands  as  he  fell."  From 
his  coat  pocket  he  drew  a  crumpled  cap,  sodden 
with  dew,  a  pipe  with  a  small  quantity  of  unlighted 
tobacco  still  adhering  to  the  bottom  of  the  bowl, 
and  a  thin  packet  of  matches. 

"But  could  any  one  have  passed  Mrs.  Carter 
on  the  stairs  without  her  knowledge?"  Estridge 
asked.  "On  the  other  hand,  if  some  one  were 
already  on  the  second  floor  when  the  lights  were 
lowered,  how  could  they  have  shot  Doyle  below  on 
the  veranda?" 


IN  THE  BOXWOOD  BUSHES         119 

"Mrs.  Carter  has  stated  that  the  sound  of  the 
shooting  dazed  and  numbed  her  faculties.  In  such 
a  condition  some  one  might  have  slipped  past  in 
either  direction,  for  the  staircase  is  wide,  remem- 
ber," Crane  replied.  "If  any  one  were  hiding 
upstairs,  awaiting  that  moment,  they  could  have 
crept  down  a  few  steps,  fired,  and  then  retreating, 
thrown  the  pistol  from  an  upper  window.  If  the 
autopsy  shows  that  the  bullet  took  a  sharply 
downward  course  and  was  of  a  caliber  to  fit  this 
tiny  weapon  the  conclusion  is  inevitable." 

He  produced  the  pistol  once  more,  and  Estridge 
exclaimed  impatiently: 

"We're  getting  nowhere,  man!  Nothing  but  a 
series  of  suppositions.  An  examination  of  this 
pistol  should  show  whether  a  shot  had  been  fired 
from  it,  and  how  recently.  Then,  when  the  owner 
of  it  is  discovered,  or  at  least  the  identity  of  the 
person  in  whose  possession  it  was  last  seen,  the 
matter  will  be  fairly  obvious.  Only  one  bullet  was 
fired  at  Doyle." 

The  detective  smiled  slightly.  "You  heard  it 
merely  as  a  muffled  report,  Mr.  Estridge;  that  is 
a  pity.  One  witness  has  already  voiced  the  opin- 
ion that  two  distinct  detonations,  so  close  together 
as  to  be  almost  simultaneous,  rang  through  the 
rotunda,  and  that  witness  was  unconsciously  cor- 


120     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

roborated  by  another  who  said  that  the  shot 
seemed  to  'echo.'  One  cartridge  only  has  been 
fired  within  the  last  few  hours  from  this  pistol, 
but  was  it  the  bullet  which  killed  Doyle?  Here 
is  Doctor  Fellowes  in  his  car.  While  he  attends  to 
your  man,  Lindsay,  I  think  I  will  just  have  a  look 
about  the  second  floor." 

The  doctor  found  the  second  victim  of  the  night 
suffering  from  a  bad  scalp  wound,  but  already 
conscious. 

"What  hit  me?"  the  latter  repeated  faintly  over 
and  over.  "I  didn't  see  nothin',  nor  hear  a  step. 
All  of  a  sudden  somethin'  fetched  me  a  crack,  and 
what  little  light  there  was  went  out  for  fair ! ' ' 

"You  are  sure  you  didn't  hear  anything?" 
Samuel  Estridge  insisted,  as  Doctor  Fellowes 
deftly  dressed  the  wound.  "I  don't  mean  a  step 
behind  you,  when  you  turned  to  light  your  pipe, 
contrary  to  orders,  Lindsay,  but  a  sound  of  any 
sort,  in  or  near  the  clubhouse,  other  than  the  music 
and  singing." 

The  man  made  a  sheepish  grimace  of  admission. 

"I  don't  know  how  you  found  out  about  my 
pipe,  Mr.  Estridge,  but  my  throat  was  parched 
for  a  smoke.  I  heard  the  song  stop  with  a  bang 
and  a  lot  of  women  hollerin',  but  they'd  been 
makin'  a  racket  all  the  evenin',  and  you  couldn't 


IN  THE  BOXWOOD  BUSHES         121 

tell  whether  they  was  laughin'  or  cryin'.  I'd  had 
my  orders  not  to  interfere,  and  I  thought  it  was 
all  part  of  the  fun.  I  turned  my  back  to  light  up 
for  just  a  minute  when  somethin'  crowned  me." 

* '  You  heard  no  other  sound  ? ' '  Estridge  's  tones 
had  taken  on  a  deeper  note.  "Just  an  instant 
before  you  were  struck,  I  mean.  Think,  Lindsay ! ' ' 

Lindsay  contracted  that  part  of  his  brow  which 
was  visible  from  beneath  the  bandage  in  a  painful 
effort  at  concentration.  "Seems  to  me  there  was 
a  kind  of  a  scraping  noise,  but  I  supposed  it  was 
the  branches  of  trees  rubbin'  together.  I  ain't 
used  to  country  sounds,  and  I  didn't  think  nothin' 
of  it." 

In  the  meantime  the  detective  had  hastened  up 
the  staircase.  The  main  upper  hall  ran  the  entire 
width  of  the  clubhouse,  with  a  window  at  each 
end.  Lesser  halls  branched  off  from  it  toward 
the  rear,  and  around  the  gallery  to  the  front  were 
the  ladies'  dressing  and  cloakrooms.  Crane  gave 
a  cursory  glance  into  one  or  two  of  the  rooms 
which  lined  the  back  corridors  and  were  evidently 
for  the  use  of  transient  guests.  Then  he  turned 
his  attention  to  the  windows.  That  at  the  left  end 
of  the  hall  was  closed,  but  the  other  had  been 
opened,  and  the  detective  walked  quickly  over  to 
it  and  glanced  out.  As  he  had  expected,  it  looked 


122     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

directly  down  upon  the  driveway  from  the  garage 
and  the  clump  of  boxwood  before  which  Lindsay 
had  been  stationed.  It  would  not  have  taken  a 
particularly  muscular  throw  or  deliberate  aim  to 
have  struck  him  that  blow,  even  had  he  had  time 
to  light  the  match  and  reveal  his  presence  by  its 
flare.  If  the  pistol  had  been  flung  blindly  straight 
from  the  window  it  could  scarcely  have  avoided 
hitting  him. 

The  cloakrooms,  which  Crane  entered  next, 
were  a  disordered  litter  of  fans,  handkerchiefs, 
and  small  fancy  receptacles  for  carrying  cosmet- 
ics. The  pillows  on  the  couch  in  one  of  the  dress- 
ing rooms  were  deeply  indented,  showing  that 
some  had  rested  there  for  a  part  of  the  previous 
evening  at  least. 

Nothing  further  of  significance  rewarding  his 
efforts,  the  detective  descended  the  staircase  to 
find  Murdock  hovering  about  its  foot. 

1  'I've  some  coffee  and  toast  here  for  you,  sir," 
the  latter  announced,  wetting  his  thin  lips  nerv- 
ously as  he  spoke.  He  appeared  older  by  ten 
years  than  on  the  previous  night,  and  the  gray  at 
his  temples  was  more  evident  in  the  broad  light 
of  day. 

"Thank  you,  Murdock."  Crane  seated  himself 
at  the  little  table,  and,  as  the  other  served  him,  he 


IN  THE  BOXWOOD  BUSHES         123 

added:  "I  understand  from  Mr.  Estridge  that 
you  have  been  here  a  long  time." 

"Since  the  club  was  built,  sir;  that's  what 
makes  it  so  awful — what  happened  last  night — 
aside  from  the  shock  about  poor  Mr.  Grant. 
There 's  never  been  a  hint  of  a  scandal,  never  even 
a  hitch  in  any  of  the  entertainments,  nor  a  com- 
plaint from  a  single  member  that  was  serious 
enough  to  be  laid  before  a  meeting  of  the  board, 
let  alone  the  suspicion  of  a  crime,  until  last  eve- 
ning. I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  would  entirely 
disrupt  the  club,  and  I  was  as  proud  of  it  as  a 
member  himself  could  have  been!"  Murdock, 
the  silent,  had  suddenly  waxed  loquacious,  but  his 
tones  were  still  habitually  deferential.  "From 
the  very  day  that  Mr.  Grant  came  to  take  the 
place  of  Mr.  Martin  I  am  sure  that  none  of  the 
members  nor  club  attendants  had  the  slightest 
idea  that  he  was  anything  more  than  the  house 
secretary  he  pretended  to  be — except,  of  course, 
those  who  engaged  him.  I  cannot  imagine  even 
yet  why  a  detective  should  have  been  installed 
here,  but  as  to  his  murder " 

"Go  on!"  Crane  commanded  tersely  as  the 
other  hesitated. 

"Well,  sir,  I  know  it's  not  my  place  to  offer 
an  opinion,  especially  to  a  person — er — a  gentle- 


124     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

man  of  your  experience  in  such  cases,  but  couldn  't 
that  have  been  the  work  of  an  outsider,  some  one 
who,  perhaps,  had  a  private  grudge  against  him? 
With  the  crowd  that  was  here  last  night  there 
would  be  plenty  of  chance  for  a  stranger  to  slip 
in  and  out  unnoticed,  even  though  I  was  behind 
my  office  desk  there  all  the  time." 

"You  were  there  when  the  shot  was  fired?" 
Crane  ignored  the  suggestion. 

"Yes,  sir.  I  remember  that  one  of  the  hired 
waiters  tried  to  pass  from  the  rear  hall  to  the 
supper  room  in  the  midst  of  the  singing,  and  I 
was  just  reaching  out  to  stop  him  when  the  sound 
of  the  shot  came." 

Crane  turned  and  regarded  the  broad  desk  top 
reflectively,  then  once  more  gazed  at  his  in- 
formant. 

"You  stretched  out  your  hand  to  touch  this 
waiter  from  behind  your  desk?" 

Murdoek  flushed  but  replied  promptly:  "No, 
sir.  Now  and  again  the  gentlemen  members  leave 
their  golf  bags  in  my  office,  instead  of  taking  them 
back  to  their  lockers;  there  are  usually  two  or 
three  of  them  there,  just  as  there  were  last  night. 
When  that  waiter  started  to  pass  I  was  afraid  he 
would  disturb  the  singing,  so  I  fumbled  at  random 
in  one  of  the  bags  at  my  feet,  picked  out  a  golf 


IN  THE  BOXWOOD  BUSHES         125 

club  and  was  trying  to  tap  him  on  the  arm  with 
it  when  the  shot  rang  out.  The  club  was  still  in 
my  hand  when  I  vaulted  over  the  desk  top — I  was 
too  much  excited  to  remember  the  little  swinging 
door — and  ran  out  on  the  veranda  with  the  others. 
I  didn't  see  from  what  direction  the  shot  came, 
and  I  hadn  't  even  noticed  Mr.  Grant  at  the  window 
there  until  we  found  him  lying  dead.  Then  Mr. 
Estridge  sent  me  to  collect  the  extra  cooks  and 
waiters  and  regular  attendants  in  the  billiard  room 
until  the  sheriff  and  coroner  should  come.  That's 
really  all  I  can  tell  you,  sir." 

"Did  you  notice  any  one  move  after  the  singing 
started,  except  that  waiter?"  Crane  asked. 

"No,  sir."  For  once  Murdock  raised  his  eyes 
and  gazed  straight  into  those  of  the  detective.  "I 
was  thinking  of  them  the  song  was  intended  for. 
They  were  all  gentlemen  whom  I'd  served  for 
years,  and  who  wouldn't  be  coming  back  to  the 
club,  ever." 

Crane  pushed  back  his  chair  and  rose.  "Let 
me  see  inside  that  office  of  yours ;  I  'd  like  to  know 
just  where  you  were  standing  when  you  heard  the 
shot." 

Without  a  word  Murdock  turned,  folded  back 
the  hinged  top  of  the  counter  and,  opening  the 
narrow,  gatelike  door,  ushered  his  visitor  inside. 


126     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

"Here,  sir.  I  was  standing  right  here  and  the 
waiter  was  there  between  me  and  the  newel  post 
when  I  reached  down." 

1 1  Into  a  golf  bag  at  your  feet,  I  think  you  said, 
Murdock!"  The  detective's  tones  had  suddenly 
crisped.  "Where  is  that  bag  now?  There  is  only 
a  shelf  of  ledgers  under  the  counter. ' ' 

Murdoek  stared  down  stupidly.  "Why,  it's 
gone!"  he  exclaimed.  "I'm  positive  there  were 
three,  for  I  had  to  move  two  for  room  to  stand. 
Yes,  there  they  are — one  in  front  of  my  little  safe 
and  the  other  under  the  letter  rack.  The  gentle- 
man who  owned  the  third  must  have  taken  it  home 
with  him  when  he  went,  and  he'll  miss  his  stick.  I 
left  it  in  the  billiard  room  or  somewhere  about,  in 
the  excitement." 

He  had  once  more  become  the  well-trained 
servant,  and  his  distress  at  such  a  trivial  error 
would  have  been  almost  comical  under  other  cir- 
cumstances. 

"Never  mind  about  the  stick!"  Crane  said  im- 
patiently. "This  club  member  must  have  been  a 
very  enthusiastic  golfer  to  remember  his  bag  at 
such  a  time!  Who  was  he!" 

"I  don't  know,  sir."  A  suspicion  of  a  shrug 
lifted  Murdoek 's  lean  shoulders.  "If  I'm  busy 


IN  THE  BOXWOOD  BUSHES         127 

somewhere  else  they  just  drop  their  bags  over  the 
counter,  and  this  one  may  have  belonged  to  a  guest 
of  one  of  the  members.  I  couldn't  even  tell  you 
who  owns  those  other  two." 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  the  coroner  made 
Ms  reappearance  from  the  room  where,  in  his 
capacity  as  physician,  he  had  attended  Lindsay. 
Seeing  the  detective,  he  exclaimed:  "Oh,  there 
you  are,  Crane !  Been  looking  for  you.  Thought 
you'd  like  to  ride  down  to  the  village  with  me; 
you  mentioned  it,  if  you  remember." 

*  *  Thank  you,  doctor,  I  should. ' '  Crane  emerged 
from  behind  the  steward's  desk.  * '  Murdock,  while 
I'm  gone  you  might  find  that  golf  club  you  spoke 
of  and  see  if  you  can  identify  its  owner  by  it. 
Now,  doctor." 

But,  as  they  descended  the  veranda  steps  to 
Doctor  Fellowes '  waiting  car,  an  alert-eyed  young 
man  arose  from  a  garden  bench  and  came  forward. 

"Man  about  forty,  gray  hair  at  temples,  walks 
like  a  cat;  know  him,  Mr.  Crane?"  he  asked  with- 
out preamble. 

"I  know  him,"  the  detective  responded  briefly. 

"Took  'em  down,  without  looking  inside  one, 
and  carried  'em  into  the  house  heaped  up  in  his 
arms,  as  careless  as  though  they  were  a  bundle  of 


128     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

straw.  Same  man  you  found  scrubbing  up  under 
the  window  later,  but  he  didn't  look  around.  Noth- 
ing more  doing  since." 

"All  right,  Jewett.  Go  around  to  the  back  and 
get  some  breakfast;  say  I  sent  you.  When  I  re- 
turn I'll  have  further  instructions  for  you." 
Crane  followed  the  mystified  doctor  into  the  car, 
and,  as  they  rattled  down  the  drive  to  the  open 
road,  he  added  to  the  latter:  "That  was  one 
of  the  operatives  from  our  own  agency  whom  I 
brought  out  from  town.  He  relieved  your  con- 
stable in  his  watch  over  the  dragon  lantern.  You 
are  going  to  perform  the  autopsy  now?" 

"Yes.  There's  no  doubt,  of  course,  that  the 
man  was  killed  with  that  pistol  which  was  found 
beside  the  body  of  the  man  I  have  just  attended. 
I  understand  that  you  have  it,  Mr.  Crane,  and  I  '11 
want  it  as  evidence  at  the  inquest." 

"It  is  in  my  pocket  now,  and  I  will  turn  it 
over  to  you  as  soon  as  we  reach  your  house,  if  you 
like,"  Crane  said.  "It's  almost  as  small  as  a 
toy." 

"Small  enough  for  a  woman  to  use,  eh!"  asked 
the  other. 

"Quite,"  Crane  acquiesced  gravely.  "Or  for  a 
man,  either,  if  he  wanted  to  throw  suspicion  upon 
a  woman." 


IN  THE  BOXWOOD  BUSHES         129 

The  doctor  glanced  up  quickly,  but  he  made  no 
comment  until  they  reached  his  home  where,  in 
a  small  outbuilding,  he  conducted  the  few  autop- 
sies he  had  been  called  upon  to  perform. 

"Come  into  the  house  for  a  minute,"  he  said. 

"I  want  to  get  my  instruments Hang  it! 

There's  some  one  in  the  office!  I  can't  be  both- 
ered with  patients  now." 

But  the  big,  broad-shouldered,  keen-eyed  man 
of  thirty-five  or  more,  who  arose  at  their  entrance, 
proved  to  be  no  patient. 

"Hello,  coroner!"  he  exclaimed  in  bluff,  hearty 
tones.  * '  My  brother,  Jack,  suggested  that  I  drop 
in  to  see  if  I  could  be  of  any  assistance  to  you, 
shooting  irons  being  my  middle  name.  Mr.  Crane, 
I  guess  you  saw  me  in  that  bunch  at  the  club  a 
few  hours  ago,  though  you  didn't  put  me  through 
any  third  degree.  I'm  Ralph  Fraser." 

The  detective  nodded  pleasantly.  "I  remember 
you,  Mr.  Fraser.  Doctor,  if  you  will  just  let  me 
have  a  look  at  the  body,  I'll  come  back  and  talk 
to  your  guest  here  until  you  have  finished  the 
autopsy,  or  until  you  need  him." 

He  accompanied  the  coroner  to  the  little  out- 
building, examined  the  body  of  his  late  associate 
without  visible  expression  of  other  than  profes- 
sional interest,  and  then  returned  to  the  office. 


130     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

Ralph  Fraser  was  pacing  the  worn  strip  of  carpet, 
his  huge,  well-knit  bulk  seeming  to  fill  the  narrow 
confines  of  the  room. 

He  paused  expectantly,  and  Crane  placed  his 
hat  on  the  table  and  then  seated  himself. 

* '  Rotten  affair,  that ! ' '  Fraser  observed  with  an 
expressive  gesture  toward  the  window,  through 
which  the  little  white- washed  building  was  visible. 
"I  was  right  in  the  hall,  not  thirty  feet  from  where 
the  poor  fellow  stood  out  on  the  veranda,  and  yet 
I  couldn't  have  told  the  direction  from  which  the 
shot  came!" 

"That  is  a  puzzling  matter  to  determine  some- 
times," Crane  responded,  and  then  abruptly 
switched  the  subject  from  the  present  and  its 
attendant  circumstances.  He  alluded  to  Eraser's 
adopted  State  and  its  resources  until  the  coroner 
rejoined  them.  "What's  the  verdict,  doctor?" 
he  asked  quickly  before  Fraser  could  speak.  "I 
don't  mean  the  details — they  will  keep  until  the 
inquest.  If  it  isn't  asking  too  much  would  you 
mind  telling  us  in  confidence  what  caliber  bullet 
killed  Doyle?" 

"A  thirty- two,"  responded  the  coroner  gravely. 

The  result  of  his  disclosure  was  extraordinary. 
Fraser  sprang  from  his  chair,  and  his  strong  voice 
rose  almost  to  a  shout.  "What!  Say  that  again, 


IN  THE  BOXWOOD  BUSHES         131 

will  you,  doc  I  You're  dead  certain  that  it  was 
a  thirty-two?" 

For  answer  the  coroner  held  out  in  his  palm  a 
tiny,  steel-coated  object.  Fraser  seized  and  eag- 
erly examined  it.  Then,  with  a  smothered  ejacu- 
lation, he  returned  it,  and,  dropping  back  into  his 
chair  once  more,  he  passed  his  handkerchief 
hastily  across  his  forehead. 

"Mr.  Fraser" — Renwick  Crane's  incisive  tones 
cut  the  tension  in  the  air  like  the  thrust  of  a 
knife — "what  do  you  know  of  this?  With  what 
size  bullet  did  you  think  Doyle  had  been  killed? 
Did  you  think  it  was  the  other  shot?  The  shot 
that  missed?" 


CHAPTEE  IX 

THE    CURIOSITY   OF    MRS.    SOWERBT 

HHHE  coroner  was  the  first  to  find  his  voice. 
•*•      '  *  Do  you  mean  to  say,  Crane,  that  two  shots 
were  fired  at  Doyle ! ' ' 

"I  have  a  witness  or  two  who  can  testify  that 
such  is  their  personal  opinion,  which  appears  to 
have  been  corroborated  by  Mr.  Fraser's  surprise 
just  now. ' '  The  detective  turned  to  the  latter  who 
still  sat  as  though  dazed.  "I  believe  you  had  a 
very  definite  reason  for  assuming  that  a  bullet 
other  than  a  thirty-two  killed  my  colleague.  Will 
you  tell  us  what  that  reason  was?" 

Fraser  roused  himself  and  squared  his  shoul- 
ders. "No  reason  except  an  instinctive  convic- 
tion based  on  my  own  -knowledge  of  firearms, ' '  he 
responded  with  a  show  of  his  former  frank,  hearty 
manner.  "I  told  you  a  little  while  ago  that  I 
couldn't  tell  the  exact  direction  from  which  the 
shot  came;  that  was  perfectly  true,  owing  to  the 
acoustics  of  the  rotunda,  but  it  is  also  true  that 

132 


THE  CURIOSITY  OF  MRS.  SOWERBY    133 

I  was  absolutely  certain,  from,  the  volume  of 
sound,  that  the  weapon  used  must  have  been  a 
thirty-eight. ' ' 

"Yet,  surely,  you  heard,  from  the  coroner's 
preliminary  examination  of  the  body,  that  the 
wound  was  caused  by  a  bullet  of  very  small  cali- 
ber," Crane  declared. 

"Gentlemen,  I  am  a  stranger  here,  not  a  mem- 
ber of  the  country  club,  but  a  guest  of  my 
brother."  Fraser  smiled  slightly  as  he  rose. 
"Down  where  I  come  from  it  isn't  healthy  for  an 
outside  party  to  set  up  his  opinion  against  that 
of  the  folks  in  charge,  and  I  thought,  of  course, 
that  the  autopsy  would  prove  my  conviction  to  be 
the  correct  one.  That  is  why  I  dropped  around 
this  morning,  and  why  I  was  so  surprised  just 
now  to  find  that  my  judgment  had  been  at  fault. 
I  must  apologize  to  the  doctor  here  for  thinking 
that  I  knew  more  than  he  did  about  it,  but  I  didn't 
have  a  glimpse  of  the  wound,  you  know.  I  guess 
you  wouldn't  take  much  stock  in  any  help  I  might 
offer  you,  after  making  such  a  bull  as  that,  Doctor 
Fellowes.  I'll  be  getting  on  back  to  my  brother's 
place.  I  will  stay  on  for  several  days'  visit, 
though,  and,  if  I  can  be  of  any  service  at  any 
time,  you  will  know  where  to  find  me.  Mr.  Crane, 
I  shall  be  glad  to  horn  in  on  your  investigation, 


134     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

too,  and  trail  along  whenever  you  say  the  word." 

"You  may  easily  have  mistaken  the  bark  of  a 
thirty-two  for  that  of  a  thirty-eight,  especially 
since,  as  you  say,  the  acoustics  of  the  hall  confused 
you  at  the  moment,  Mr.  Fraser."  The  detective's 
tone  was  pleasantly  ingratiating  now,  but  his  eyes 
were  steady  and  rather  hard.  "However,  if  a 
totally  untrained  ear  could  distinguish  between 
two  distinct,  but  almost  simultaneous,  shots, 
surely  you  would  have  been  able  to  do  so ;  that  is, 
provided  there  had  been  two  shots  instead  of  one. 
It  is  a  mere  supposition  as  yet,  of  course." 

Ralph  Fraser  paused  in  the  doorway.  "I've 
been  proved  wrong  once  in  this  case,  and  I  ought 
to  have  horse  sense  enough  not  to  venture  a  fur- 
ther opinion,"  he  remarked.  "However,  I'd  be 
willing  to  wager  my  bottom  dollar  that  only  one 
shot  was  fired  last  night." 

When  he  had  taken  his  departure  the  coroner 
and  the  detective  eyed  each  other  in  silence. 
When  they  heard  the  gate  latch  the  former  asked  : 
"Were  you  serious  about  that,  Crane,  or  was  it 
a  bluff?  Have  you  actually  witnesses  who  are 
prepared  to  swear  that  two  shots  were  fired?" 

"Not  actually."  Crane  smiled.  "However,  our 
friend  Fraser  evidently  had  some  good  reason  of 
his  own  for  believing,  or  at  least  suspecting,  that 


THE  CURIOSITY  OF  MRS.  SOWERBY    135 

the  weapon  used  was  not  this  one."  As  he  spoke 
he  took  from  his  pocket  the  pistol  which  had  felled 
Lindsay.  "This  is,  as  you  see,  a  thirty- two,  a 
single  shot  has  been  fired  from  it,  and  you  know 
where  it  was  found.  Of  course,  doctor,  if  your 
autopsy  has  shown  that  the  shot  which  killed 
Doyle  was  fired  straight  in  front  of  him  and  on  a 
level  with  his  breast " 

Doctor  Fellowes  shook  his  head.  "I  will  be 
frank  with  you,  Crane.  That  was  my  first  opinion, 
based  on  a  hasty  examination  of  the  body  at  the 
club,  but  I'll  have  to  modify  it  in  part  now.  The 
bullet  took  a  downward  course  and  must  have  been 
discharged  from  several  feet,  at  least,  above 
Doyle's  head;  how  far  would  depend  naturally 
upon  the  distance  of  the  assassin  from  his  victim. ' ' 

'  *  Yes,  if  Doyle  were  standing  upright,  but  what 
if  he  had  been  squatting  upon  bent  knees,  the 
upper  part  of  his  body  still  erect,  in  order  the 
better  to  see  in  at  the  window?"  asked  Crane. 

"In  that  case  any  one  within  the  hall  of  Doyle's 
own  height  might  have  fired  point-blank  at  him — 
any  one,  of  course,  within  straight  range,"  the 
doctor  conceded. 

Crane  began  pacing  the  floor  reflectively.  All  at 
once  he  paused  on  the  threshold  and  faced  the 
other.  "  Doctor,  do  you  realize  that  a  straight 


136     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

range  may  not  mean  the  rear  of  the  hall,  alone? 
Have  you  noticed  the  width  of  that  window  before 
which  Doyle  was  stationed?  I  didn't  arrive  in 
time  to  see  the  position  of  his  body,  but,  from 
what  testimony  I  have  been  able  to  gather,  it  was 
lying  in  a  crumpled  heap  under  the  lantern." 

Doctor  Fellowes  nodded  gravely.  "That  was 
how  I  found  it  when  I  got  there,  and  Mr.  Estridge 
assured  me  that  its  position  had  not  been  dis- 
turbed in  any  way.  But  it  has  been  my  experience 
that,  during  the  excitement  following  the  discov- 
ery of  such  a  crime,  the  body  is  frequently  moved, 
if  only  in  the  effort  to  learn  whether  life  is  extinct 
or  not." 

"But,  even  if  it  had  not  been  disturbed,  the  po- 
sition in  which  you  yourself  saw  it  would  not 
prove  that  Doyle  had  been  directly  in  the  center 
of  the  window  space,  would  it?"  asked  the  detec- 
tive. "Might  he  not  have  been  peering  in  at  the 
extreme  right  or  left  of  the  casing?" 

The  coroner  started.  "Why,  certainly!  And 
in  that  case " 

"In  that  case  he  would  have  been  within  range 
of  almost  a  complete  semicircle  of  the  rotunda — 
a  semicircle  which  would  have  reached  from  the 
conservatory  entrance,  where  young  Landon  stood 
alone,  around  to  the  door  of  the  smaller  supper 


THE  CURIOSITY  OF  MRS.  SOWERBY    137 

room,  where  Ogden  Bowles  had  halted,  also  alone. 
It  would  take  in  all  those  who  stood  in  the  radius 
between. ' ' 

1  'But  this  pistol!"  The  coroner  picked  it  up 
from  the  table  as  he  spoke.  "Doesn't  all  the  cir- 
cumstantial evidence  point  to  the  fact  that  the 
fatal  shot  was  fired  from  it,  and  that  it  was  flung 
out  of  that  window  at  the  end  of  the  upper  hall, 
immediately  afterward  I ' ' 

"Yes,  but  it  doesn't  necessarily  prove  that  the 
murderer  was  hiding  up  on  the  second  floor," 
Crane  objected.  "He  might  easily,  in  that  minute 
of  stunned  sensibility  on  the  part  of  the  people, 
which  followed  the  sound  of  the  shot,  have  either 
slipped  past  Mrs.  Carter  and  up  and  down  the 
stairs  in  time  to  join  the  general  hue  and  cry, 
or  he  might  have  dashed  down  the  hall  leading  to 
the  rear  and  so  up  the  back  staircase.  As  I  under- 
stand it,  in  the  confusion  that  followed  the  dis- 
covery of  the  crime,  it  was  quite  ten  or  fifteen  min- 
utes before  any  one  thought  of  counting  heads. 
We  know  at  the  agency  why  Doyle  was  sent  down 
here,  of  course,  and  that  knowledge  will  enable 
us  to  eliminate  a  lot  of  people  from  suspicion." 

"The  loss  or  theft  of  Mrs.  de  Forest's  neck- 
lace," said  the  coroner. 

"  'Loss?'  "  repeated  the  other. 


138     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

"Yes.  The  sheriff  has  taken  charge  of  it,  you 
know,  and  an  examination  shows  that  the  clasp 
was  defective ;  it  might  have  slipped  from  the  old 
lady's  neck  at  any  time  after  she  put  it  on  in 
her  own  home  until  she  missed  it  at  the  Harvest 
Dance  and  reported  the  matter  to  the  house  com- 
mittee, a  period  of  several  hours."  Doctor  Fel- 
lowes  paused  and  then  went  on:  "Whoever  picked 
it  up  has  been  evidently  waiting  for  a  large  reward 
to  be  offered,  or  he  was  afraid  to  dispose  of  it, 
not  understanding  why  a  public  announcement  of 
the  loss  was  not  made." 

"Loss  or  deliberately  planned  theft,  wherever 
that  necklace  has  been  hidden  during  the  past 
month,  it  was1  placed  in  the  dragon  lantern  last 
night  and  for  a  particular  reason. ' '  The  detective 
made  an  impatient  gesture.  "That's  beside  the 
point.  We're  investigating  the  murder  of  Jim 
Doyle,  and  I  can't  help  feeling  that  there  is  some- 
thing which  has  been  overlooked,  some  trifling  clew 
that  would  give  us  the  key  to  the  whole  affair." 

"This  pistol "  began  the  coroner. 

"Splendid  bit  of  circumstantial  evidence,  but, 
unless  it  has  been  seen  in  some  one's  possession 
lately,  it  would  take  a  month  to  trace  it  back  from 
the  manufacturer  to  the  original  purchaser  and 
so  on  down  the  line.  It  is  not  a  new  model  and 


THE  CURIOSITY  OF  MRS.  SOWERBY    139 

hasn't  a  single  mark  of  identification  beyond  the 
usual  number,  maker's  name,  and  the  year  in 
which  it  was  patented.  No,  doctor,  I  think  I  shall 
try  a  new  trail  even  if  I  have  to  blaze  it. ' '  Crane 
picked  up  his  hat.  "I'd  like  a  little  more  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  people  up  at  the  country  club 
than  Doyle's  reports  gave  us.  Most  of  the  mem- 
bers are  your  patients,  aren't  they?" 

"The  majority  of  those  who  make  Broadlawns 
an  all-year  home,"  Doctor  Fellowes  responded. 
"Their  places  are  all  in  the  neighborhood.  The 
Sowerby  place  is  the  nearest;  it  is  that  big* stone 
house  with  turrets,  the  one  we  passed  just  over 
the  hill.  On  the  top  of  the  next  hill  Mrs.  de  For- 
est's old  Colonial  house  stands,  and  the  others  of 
that  set  are  clustered  down  in  the  valley.  Mrs. 
Carter's  little  cottage  is  sandwiched  in  between 
two  old  farms,  within  a  mile  of  the  club.  I  have 
got  to  call  on  a  patient  of  mine  off  Eastville  way, 
but  I'll  be  glad  to  run  you  first  anywhere  you 
say. ' ' 

"No,  thanks.  I  think  I  will  stroll  around  the 
town  a  little  and  get  a  line  on  the  country  club 
crowd  from  the  local  angle.  I'll  be  at  the  club 
later  if  you  want  to  consult  me." 

Yet,  when  Crane  had  seen  the  doctor's  little  car 
disappear  down  the  village  street,  he  turned  his 


140     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

steps  rapidly  back  in  the  other  direction — to  the 
turreted  stone  house  over  the  hill.  He  noted  the 
wheel  tracks  of  many  vehicles  on  the  driveway  as 
he  approached  and  was  not  surprised  when,  in 
response  to  his  ring  at  the  entrance  door,  a  har- 
assed butler  informed  him  that  Mr.  Sowerby  was 
not  at  home  and  Mrs.  Sowerby  had  absolutely 
nothing  to  say  for  publication. 

"I  do  not  represent  the  press,*'  the  detective 
retorted.  "Kindly  tell  Mrs.  Sowerby  that  Mr. 
Crane " 

He  got  no  farther.  The  mention  of  his  name 
wrought  a  miraculous  change  in  the  servant's 
manner.  "Come  right  in,  sir.  Mr.  Sowerby  has 
gone  up  to  the  country  club,  but  I've  had  instruc- 
tions that  Mrs.  Sowerby  would  be  at  home  to  you, 
of  course,  if  you  should  call. ' '  The  man  spoke  in 
a  nervous  undertone.  "This  way,  sir." 

He  led  the  detective  into  a  small  drawing-room. 
A  tiny  wood  fire  crackled  on  the  hearth,  and  the 
heavy  scent  of  fresh  violets  in  low  bowls  vied 
with  the  cloying,  sensuous  odor  of  incense  from  a 
bronze  brazier.  The  daylight  had  been  all  but 
excluded  by  thick  curtains  which  shrouded  the 
windows,  and  a  low  wing  chair  had  been  drawn 
up  suggestively  near  a  tall,  cathedral-backed  one. 

As  Crane  seated  himself  in  the  latter  he  smiled 


THE  CURIOSITY  OF  MRS.  SOWERBY    141 

inwardly.  The  stage  had  evidently  been  set  for 
a  carefully  rehearsed  scene,  but  why  so  much  effort 
to  make  an  impression  upon  him?  He  had  learned 
that  Mrs.  Sowerby  went  into  a  fit  of  hysterics  at 
the  time  of  the  shooting  and  was  one  of  the  first 
to  leave  the  club,  escorted  by  the  Dorrances, 
before  his  arrival.  Was  she  merely  another  of  the 
neurasthenics  with  whom  he  had  more  than  once 
come  into  contact,  or  had  she  some  deeper  reason 
for  this  reception? 

She  had  evidently  hoped  for  his  coming,  planned 
for  it,  and  it  could  not  have  been  difficult  to  get 
her  self-important  husband  back  to  the  scene  of 
the  previous  night's  tragedy.  Crane  thought  of 
the  irascible,  rheumatic  Rutherford  Sowerby  in 
this  dim,  scented,  boudoirlike  apartment  and 
chuckled  to  himself.  A  faint,  silken  rustle  came 
to  his  ears,  and  he  turned  to  greet  the  small  figure 
in  trailing,  violet  draperies  which  appeared  in  the 
doorway. 

"You're  the  wonderful  Mr.  Crane,  aren't  you?" 
she  asked.  ' '  I  felt  so  relieved  directly  I  heard  you 
had  arrived.  I  knew  you  would  clear  up  this 
dreadful  mystery  for  us!  Please  sit  down  and 
tell  me  if  you  have  discovered  who  did  that — 
that  fearful  thing  last  night." 

She  motioned  toward  the  chair,  and,  as  he  re- 


142     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

seated  himself,  the  detective  made  several  quick 
mental  notes.  There  was  a  certain  native  shrewish 
quality  back  of  the  lady's  childlike  tones,  a  hard- 
ness underlying  her  delicate  features,  and  the 
finger  tips  of  the  hand  she  had  extended  to  him 
were  stubby  and  hard.  This  youthful  wife  of  an 
elderly  millionaire  was  not  an  aristocratic  sensa- 
tion-seeker, after  all ;  for  some  purpose  of  her  own 
she  was  prepared  to  use  him  if  she  could,  and  he 
had  to  admit  to  himself  that  her  work,  although 
crude,  was  consistent  with  her  type. 

"You  flatter  me,  my  dear  Mrs.  Sowerby!"  he 
replied  with  exaggerated  deference.  "I  have  had 
very  little  time,  you  know,  and,  with  so  many 
people  at  the  club  to  interview,  it  is  a  lengthy 
business.  But  I  understand  that  you  were  ill.  I 
will  make  my  call  as  brief  as  possible.  If  you 
will  just  answer  a  question  or  two,  I  won't  detain 
you  long." 

"If  But  what  could  I  possibly  tell  you?"  A 
sharper  note,  quickly  suppressed,  edged  the  child- 
ish voice.  "Of  course  I  have  been  frightfully  ill 
all  night,  as  my  husband  can  tell  you,  from  the 
sheer  horror  of  the  thing,  but  poor  Mr.  Grant  was, 
as  far  as  we  -knew,  just  a — a  sort  of  an  infe- 
rior, an  employee  of  the  club  like  Murdock.  How 
could  we  possibly  imagine  that  he  was  a  detective  ? 


THE  CURIOSITY  OF  MRS.  SOWERBY    143 

Why  has  he  been  there  all  this  past  month,  dis- 
guised and  watching  us  all,  and  the  mystery  of  it 
makes  the  whole  affair  seem  like  a  perfect  night- 
mare ! ' ' 

Could  that  be  mere  avid  curiosity  in  her  tone, 
or  something  bordering  on  anxiety  ?  Crane  paused 
before  he  responded :  * '  I  am  sorry,  Mrs.  Sowerby, 
but  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  tell  you  that  just  now. 
You  were  present  when  the  shot  was  fired?" 

She  shuddered  and  shrank  back  within  the 
screening  wings  of  her  «hair. 

"Yes — no!  I — I  was  in  the  conservatory — 
alone.  I  had  gone  there  to  get  away  from  the 
dancing  and  noise,  for  I  had  a  slight  headache 
and  didn't  want  any  supper.  Then  I  heard  the 
crash  of  the  shot  in  the  midst  of  the  singing,  and 
some  one  told  me  what  had  happened,  and  I  went 
into  hysterics.  I  don't  see  how  a  highly  strung, 
sensitive  woman  could  have  helped  it!" 

"A  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dorrance  brought  you  home,  I 
believe.  Are  they  intimate  friends  of  yours,  Mrs. 
Sowerby?"  Crane  asked. 

She  gave  a  nervous  little  laugh,  and  the  fingers, 
which  had  been  tapping  the  arms  of  her  chair 
suddenly  clutched  them.  A  full  minute  passed 
before  she  replied  in  a  voice  of  studied  naivete: 
"What  a  funny  question,  Mr.  Crane!  The  Dor- 


144     THE  TKIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

ranees  happened  to  be  the  first  to  leave,  and  my 
husband  or  somebody  asked  them  to  take  me  home, 
as  I  was  quite  beside  myself !  We  are  all  intimate 
out  here  in  a  way,  but  they  are  no  closer  associates 
of  ours  than  any  other  members  of  our  set  at 
the  club.  Mr.  Dorrance  is  an  amusing  sort  of  boy, 
but  his  wife,  being  so  much  older,  doesn't  go  in 
for  many  things  except  bridge,  and,  as  I  have 
always  been  far  too  stupid  to  learn  that,  I  really 
know  her  merely  as  an  acquaintance.  Have  you 
interviewed  them?" 

''Not  yet."  He  rose.  "I  am  sorry  you  cannot 
tell  me  anything  more  definite  about  last  night's 
affair,  but  I  won't  detain  you  any  longer,  Mrs. 
Sowerby.  By  the  way — from  where  you  were 
seated  in  the  conservatory  could  you  see  the  main 
staircase?  Another  lady  member  of  your  club,  a 
Mrs.  Carter,  was  standing  just  at  its  foot,  and, 
although  the  murder  did  not  shock  her  into  hys- 
teria, it  stunned  her  so  that  I  have  been  able 
to  gain  no  valuable  impressions  from  her, 
either." 

"I  couldn't  imagine  Mrs.  Carter  in  hysterics 
under  any  circumstances!"  Mrs.  Sowerby  ex- 
claimed with  a  hard  little  laugh.  ' ;  She  would  pose 
if  the  heavens  fell!" 


THE  CURIOSITY  OF  MRS.  SOWERBY    145 

"Who  is  she  I"  Crane  asked  with  seeming  indif- 
ference. 

"Nobody  knows.  She  appeared  here  alone 
about  two  years  ago  and  got  into  the  club,  some- 
how, but  none  of  the  women  have  taken  her  up 
beyond  being  civil  to  her.  I  don't  think  she  minds, 
though,  with  all  the  men  yapping  at  her  heels  as 
they  do.  She  made  a  perfect  fool  of  Phil — Mrs. 
Dorrance's  husband — a  season  or  two  ago,  but 
now  it  is  a  bachelor  for  a  change — that  broker 
who  runs  out  from  town  to  play  golf."  Mrs. 
Sowerby  caught  herself  up  hastily  and  added  with 
a  belated  return  to  her  childlike  manner :  ' '  Please 
don't  think  I  am  catty,  Mr.  Crane,  I'm  not  really, 
but  you  quite  see  what  I  mean,  don't  you!  I 
couldn't  help  showing  my  feelings  by  becoming 
hysterical  last  night!  No  woman  with  any  heart 
could  have!" 

"I  quite  understand."  The  detective  spoke 
with  bland  sympathy.  "You  were  alone  in  the 
conservatory  when  the  crime  took  place,  I  think 
you  said,  Mrs.  Sowerby?" 

"Yes.  There  may  have  been  other  people  there, 
of  course,  but  I  had  hidden  myself  away  in  a 
corner  behind  some  palms  and  didn't  see  nor  hear 
any  one." 


146     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

"When  the  sound  of  the  shot  came  did  you 
leave  the  conservatory,  or  did  some  one  come 
there  to  tell  you  what  had  happened?  Who  told 
you?" 

"I  don't  know!  I  cannot  remember!"  she 
replied.  "Of  course  I  must  have  gotten  out  into 
the  foyer  somehow,  but  everything  was  so  con- 
fused and  horrible!  I  caught  a  glimpse  through 
the  window  of — of  that  poor  thing  lying  out  there 
on  the  veranda,  and  the  next  thing  I  can  recall  is 
of  having  given  way  completely,  and  Mrs.  Fraser 
and  some  other  ladies  were  attending  me.  Oh,  I 
shall  never  forget  the  sight  of  that  poor  man! 
Why  was  he  sent  here  to  spy  upon  us  f  Dear  Mr. 
Crane,  surely  you  can  tell  just  little  me!  I  don't 
carry  tales,  really,  truly!" 

Her  hand  was  on  his  arm,  her  coaxing  face  up- 
turned very  close,  and  the  blue  eyes  were  gazing 
straight  into  his.  For  a  moment  Crane  deliber- 
ately dropped  his  mask  of  elaborate  deference. 

"Why  are  you  so  anxious  to  know,  Mrs.  Sow- 
erby?"  he  demanded  bluntly.  "Surely  you  have 
nothing  to  fear  from  the  presence  of  a  detective  ? ' ' 

With  a  shrug  she  stepped  back  and  again  that 
hard  little  laugh  rose  to  her  lips. 

"Scarcely!"  The  shrill,  shrewish  note  was 
dominant  now  in  her  tones.  "One  doesn't  like 


THE  CURIOSITY  OF  MRS.  SOWERBY    147 

to  think,  however,  that,  among  one's  associates, 
there  may  be  a  person  guilty  of  anything  which 
would  bring  them  under  surveillance.  Good  morn- 
ing, Mr.  Crane!" 

Once  more  out  in  the  bright  sunlight  and  strid- 
ing down  the  drive,  Crane  added  a  significant  note 
or  two  to  his  mental  data.  Mrs.  Sowerby  was  or 
had  been  infatuated  with  the  man  named  Dor- 
ranee,  and  she  was  jealous  of  Mrs.  Carter;  she 
had  told  two  slightly  conflicting  stories  of  her 
own  actions  at  the  moment  of  the  shooting,  and, 
in  spite  of  her  denials-,  she  was  deeply  and  per- 
sonally concerned  in  learning  the  motive  for 
Doyle 's  presence  at  the  club,  although  in  ignorance 
of  the  loss  of  the  necklace  which  had  occasioned  it. 

Why  was  she  so  concerned?  Could  there  be 
wheels  within  wheels  in  this  quiet,,  conservative 
community?  Could  there,  after  all,  have  been 
some  other  possible  motive  than  the  theft  of  the 
necklace  for  the  murder  of  Jim  Doyle? 


CHAPTEK  X 

THE    WOMAN    UPSTAIRS 

"D  ETURNING  to  the  village,  Crane  possessed 
•"•^  himself  of  a  small  car  at  a  renting  garage. 
After  consulting  a  road  map  he  started  by  a  wide 
detour  toward  the  club.  The  machine  he  had 
hired  was  of  an  antiquated  model  and  slow  and 
halting  in  its  gait,  but  it  had  the  double  advantage 
of  a  dull,  neutral-gray  color  and  a  silent  motor. 

The  road  he  had  chosen  led  away  from  the 
estates  of  the  country  club  colony,  through  a 
region  of  small  farms,  out  upon  a  pleasant  high- 
way, bordered  on  the  right  by  rolling  fields  and 
on  the  left  by  a  deep  glen.  Through  the  dense, 
but  almost  leafless,  trees  there  came  the  trickle 
of  a  waterfall. 

Crane  had  passed  no  vehicles  upon  the  way 
except  an  occasional  farm  wagon,  but,  as  he 
reached  the  glen,  an  approaching  rumble  and  roar 
came  to  his  ears,  and  he  drew  up  at  the  extreme 
right  of  the  road  just  as  another  car  thundered 

148 


THE  WOMAN  UPSTAIRS  149 

past,  rocking  from  side  to  side,  despite  its  weight, 
by  the  speed  at  which  it  was  driven.  The  face 
of  the  man  bent  over  the  wheel  was  like  a  demon. 

It  was  distorted  with  a  very  frenzy  of  fury,  but, 
although  the  man  went  by  in  a  swift  blur,  the  de- 
tective recognized  him.  The  man  was  the  suave 
broker  of  the  previous  night's  interview,  Ogden 
Bowles. 

Crane  shut  off  his  engine  and  sat  back  under  the 
hoodlike  top  for  a  moment's  reflection  on  the  inci- 
dent. Bowles  was  the  acknowledged  suitor  of  the 
red-haired  Mrs.  Carter,  yet  he  was  obviously  not 
going  to  or  returning  from  her  little  cottage,  for 
it  lay  several  miles  in  another  direction.  Where 
had  he  been,  and  what  could  have  put  him  in 
such  a  rage?  He  had  practically  asserted  the 
evening  before  that  his  only  interest  out  of  town 
was  in  the  country  club  and  his  associates  there. 
He,  too,  had  been  present  when  that  shot  was 
fired,  standing  at  the  extreme  left  of  that  semi- 
circle, within  pistol  range  of  the  window  with 
the  dragon  lantern. 

Crane  shrugged  and  started  to  alight  in  order 
to  crank  his  ancient  little  car.  The  faint  sound 
of  voices  down  in  the  glen  at  the  left  reached  him, 
and  he  paused,  then  crossed  the  road  quickly  and, 
ducking  between  the  railings  of  the  fence,  he 


150     THE  TEIGGEE  OP  CONSCIENCE 

began  to  make  his  way  cautiously  down  the  steep 
declivity  through  the  crackling  underbrush. 

The  sound  of  the  voices  came  nearer,  and,  as 
Crane  reached  a  sort  of  path  which  wound  along 
the  bank  of  a  narrow  stream,  he  saw  a  man  and 
a  woman  approaching.  The  man  was  young  and 
dapper,  with  a  small,  blond  mustache,  and  he  was 
evidently  under  stress  of  some  violent  emotion, 
for  he  gesticulated  jerkily  as  he  trotted  along 
beside  his  taller  companion,  who  walked  steadily 
with  a  free,  swinging  stride.  She  wore  a  clinging 
sweater,  and  the  sunlight,  striking  down  through 
the  naked  branches  of  the  trees,  glowed  on  her 
bare  head  and  turned  it  to  molten  copper. 

Crane  did  not  know  the  man,  but  he  had  little 
difficulty  in  recognizing  Mrs.  Carter,  and  he 
slipped  hastily  behind  a  clump  of  low-growing 
evergreens,  as  the  couple  approached. 

"I  tell  you  it's  life  or  death!"  The  man's 
voice  fairly  broke  in  his  excitement.  "Don't  you 
suppose  I  realize  my  position  as  it  is?  No  mercy 
would  be  shown " 

"You  speak  of  mercy?"  They  were  abreast 
of  the  detective  now,  and  the  contempt  in  the 
woman's  rich,  calm  tones  was  as  keen  as  a  knife 
blade.  "Women  have  shown  me  scant  mercy  in 


THE  WOMAN  UPSTAIES  151 

my  life ;  why  should  I  ruin  myself  now  in  order  to 
help  you  to  see  that  another  doesn't  suffer?" 

"Then  I'll  tell!"  The  man's  voice  rose  in  a 
cry  of  rage.  "I  swear  to  Heaven  I'll  tell!" 

"Very  well,  you  cur !"  Mrs.  Carter's  tones  had 
not  risen,  and,  as  the  couple  rapidly  receded  down 
the  path,  the  detective  could  barely  distinguish 
her  words.  ' '  The  world  is  wide,  and  Broadlawns 
is  only  a  tiny  corner  of  it." 

The  man  began  to  plead  in  an  indistinguishable, 
vehement  murmur,  and  Crane  scrambled  back  to 
the  road  and  hurriedly  cranked  up  his  car.  He 
drove  back  the  way  he  had  come  until  he  reached 
a  crossroad.  A  glance  at  the  map  showed  him 
it  must  be  a  short  cut  to  the  club.  The  reason 
was  apparent  now  for  Bowies'  jealous  rage.  Bat 
what  was  the  secret  which  the  inscrutable  Mrs. 
Carter  had  defied  her  companion  to  disclose,  and 
who  was  the  other  woman  he  was  trying  to  induce 
her  to  save  from  suffering? 

His  reflections  were  interrupted  by  a  deep- 
toned,  resonant  hail,  and,  looking  up  sharply,  he 
beheld  the  head  and  shoulders  of  Samuel  Estridge 
rising  from  behind  a  trim  hedge  of  privet. 

"Just  the  man  I  want  to  see!"  the  attorney 
exclaimed.  "Come  in  and  have  lunch  with  me, 


152     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

Crane.  I've  been  puttering  around  the  club  all 
the  morning  waiting  for  you  to  turn  up,  but  they 
told  me  you  had  gone  off  with  the  coroner. " 

The  detective  was  only  too  glad  to  accept,  not 
only  because  of  this  signal  honor  paid  to  him  by 
one  of  the  most  eminent  members  of  the  bar  and 
the  opportunity  to  study  him  at  close  range,  but 
because  he  felt  that  no  one  else  in  the  colony 
could  give  him  more  information  of  the  sort  he 
required. 

He  drove  in  between  pillars  of  the  privet, 
turned  his  machine  over  to  the  chauffeur,  and 
followed  his  host  into  the  ivy-covered  brick 
cottage. 

* '  I  hired  that  old  bus  there  in  the  village.  After 
the  autopsy  I  left  Doctor  Fellowes  and  called  on 
Mr.  Sowerby,  but  I  learned  that  he,  too,  had  gone 
up  to  the  club,"  Crane  explained. 

Samuel  Estridge's  eyes  twinkled.  "I  fancy 
your  time  wasn't  wasted,  however,  if  you  were 
looking  for  any  gossip  of  the  colony,"  he  observed 
dryly.  "Did  the  autopsy  disclose  what  we  ex- 
pected?" 

Crane  nodded.  "I  don't  think  I  am  violating 
any  professional  confidence  of  the  coroner's  in 
saying  that  the  weapon  which  knocked  out  your 
man  Lindsay  was  unquestionably,  as  far  as  the 


THE  WOMAN  UPSTAIES  153 

present  circumstantial  evidence  goes,  the  same 
that  was  used  to  kill  Doyle.  How  is  Lindsay?  I 
forgot  to  ask  the  doctor." 

"Conscious  and  coming  around  all  right,  but 
the  only  thing  he  can  remember,  just  before  some- 
thing hit  him,  was  a  sort  of  scraping  noise ;  might 
have  been  the  raising  of  that  upper  hall  window, 
eh?" 

"Yes — Mr.  Estridge,  I'm  not  going  to  accept 
your  hospitality  and  abuse  it,  nor  am  I  stupid 
enough  to  think  that  I  could  attempt  to  pump  the 
cleverest  cross-examiner  in  the  courts  to-day  and 
get  away  with  it!"  Crane  laughed  with  boyish 
frankness.  "However,  I  do  want  some  dope  on 
the  crowd  out  here  that  only  you  can  give  me, 
if  you  will." 

' '  Gladly !  Come  along  into  the  dining  room,  our 
chops  are  getting  cold."  The  attorney  laughed 
also  and  led  his  guest  into  the  austere  Jacobean 
room.  He  waited  until  his  man  had  served  them 
and  withdrawn  before  he  added:  "I'm  afraid, 
Crane,  that  I'm  reaching  the  age  when  a  man 
loves  to  gossip.  What  can  I  tell  you?" 

* '  First  of  all  I  must  confess  that  I  did  get  a  bit 
of  illuminating  gossip  to-day,  but  not  in  the  way 
that  you  imagine,  sir, ' '  Crane  responded  candidly. 
"In  an  investigation  of  this  sort,  where  I  am  fol- 


154     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

lowing  a  blind  trail,  the  little,  insignificant  details 
about  the  lives  of  the  people  who  were  present 
when  the  crime  was  committed,  sometimes  provide 
unexpectedly  valuable  clews,  even  though  they 
themselves  are  unquestionably  innocent.  For  in- 
stance, can  you  tell  me  anything  more  about  Mr. 
Fraser's  brother  than  that  he  comes  from  Texas 
and  has  done  some  banking  business  with  Mr.  Sow- 
erby 's  institution!  I  met  hi'm  again  this  morning, 
and  he  seems  to  be  a  bug  on  weapons,  especially 
firearms. ' ' 

"So  Jack  told  me,  but  I  never  met  Ralph  Fraser 
until  yesterday  afternoon,"  Estridge  remarked. 
' '  He  goes  in  more  for  collecting  freak  man-killing 
inventions,  I  believe,  than  the  sort  which  usually 
come  under  your  professional  notice  or  mine.  I 
don't  mean  bombs,  but  pistols  and  daggers,  dis- 
guised more  or  less  innocently,  after  the  manner 
of  the  old  sword  canes.  He  seems  to  be  rather 
an  ingenuous  sort  of  fellow  for  such  a  blood- 
thirsty hobby,  and,  since  you  have  already  got  the 
weapon  with  which,  in  all  human  probability,  the 
murder  was  committed  last  night,  I  don't  believe 
he  will  be  of  much  use  to  you. ' ' 

"I  merely  used  him  as  an  illustration,"  Crane 
averred.  *  *  Then  there  is  the  broker,  Mr.  Bowles : 


THE  WOMAN  UPSTAIRS  155 

what  is  his  particular  hobby,  other  than  golf  and 
defying  speed  laws?" 

"I  don't  believe  I  know,"  replied  the  attorney 
thoughtfully.  "He  hasn't  been  a  member  long, 
but  he  was  proposed  and  seconded  by  two  mem- 
bers of  the  house  committee,  one  of  whom  is  ill, 
and  the  other  away  just  now.  I  never  realized 
it  until  you  spoke,  but  I  do  not  believe  that  any 
of  the  rest  of  us  know  much  about  him  or  his 
personal  proclivities. ' ' 

"I  gather  that  he  was  rather  more  of  a  ladies ' 
man,"  Crane  observed  slyly.  "By  the  way,  Mr. 
Estridge,  I  don't  mean  to  be  indiscreet,  but  I  have 
heard  that  there  is  a  woman  member  of  your  club 
about  whom  no  one  seems  to  know  very  much, 
either,  although  that  is  the  worst  that  any  one 
appears  able  to  say  against  her.  Can  you  tell 
me  where  she  came  from  and  who  were  her  social 
sponsors!  I  work  mostly  by  a  process  of  elimi- 
nation, you  knowr,  and  I  like  to  have  all  the  irrele- 
vant factors  tabulated  and  out  of  my  way. ' ' 

The  attorney  hesitated  for  a  moment  frown- 
ingly,  and  then  his  brow  cleared.  "I  can  see  no 
harm  in  giving  you  the  information  which,  with  a 
little  more  time  and  trouble,  you  might  easily 
obtain  elsewhere.  The  lady  to  whom  you  refer 


156     THE  TRIGGER  OP  CONSCIENCE 

came  from  Raleigh,  North  Carolina,  about  three 
years  ago,  deposited  negotiable  stocks  and  bonds 
for  a  substantial  amount  in  one  of  the  local  banks, 
and  purchased  the  cottage  which  she  now  occupies. 
Of  course  being  a  stranger  here  and  alone  I  will 
admit  that  she  was  looked  at  rather  askance  by 
the  other  matrons  of  the  colony,  but  she  made  no 
attempt  to  force  herself  upon  the  society  of  any 
one  and  lived  for  several  months  in  the  strictest 
seclusion.  Then  gradually  people  began  taking 
her  up,  and  at  length  somebody  proposed  her  at 
the  club.  I  have  been  given  to  understand  that 
she  has  a  substantial  income  from  her  late  hus- 
band's estate." 

"Does  any  one  know  what  her  late  husband's 
business  was,  or  his  first  name?"  asked  the 
detective. 

Again  the  attorney  hesitated  before  he  replied : 
' '  His  name  was  Amsa,  or  Abner,  or  some  such  old- 
fashioned  name.  I  have  heard  that  he  was  elderly 
and  retired  when  she  married  him,  and  she  was 
a  mere  girl.  If  I  were  a  married  man  myself,  Mr. 
Crane,  I  might  be  able  to  give  you  more  intimate 
details,  but,  being  just  a  bachelor,  the  ladies  do 
not  confide  in  me.  However,  it  has  been  hinted 
that  her  life  wasn't  particularly  happy — the  old 
story  of  May  and  December,  I  suppose — and  his 


THE  WOMAN  UPSTAIRS  157 

death  was  more  of  a  relief  than  a  sorrow.  At 
least  that  is  the  reason  which  is  given  for  her  dis- 
taste to  discuss  the  past.  There,  you  see,  Crane, 
I  told  you  I  feared  I  had  reached  the  age  when  a 
man  loves  to  gossip!" 

Accepting  the  final  remark  as  a  hint  the  detec- 
tive turned  the  conversation  away  from  personali- 
ties, and  it  was  not  until  just  as  he  was  taking 
leave  of  his  host  that  he  asked,  as  though  in  an 
afterthought:  "Know  any  blond  young  man 
around  here  who  wears  a  little  mustache  and 
dresses  like  a  fashion  plate,  only  a  little  more  so, 
Mr.  Estridge?  He  has  rather  a  high  voice,  and  I 
imagine  he  thinks  pretty  well  of  himself." 

The  attorney  laughed  carelessly.  "Oh,  you 
mean  young  Phil  Dorrance!  No  one  takes  him 
very  seriously,  I  am  afraid.  He  and  his  wife  are 
in  the  crowd  up  at  the  country  club,  but  you  didn't 
meet  him  because  they  went  home  early  and 
escorted  Mrs.  Sowerby,  whose  nerves  had  gone  to 
pieces.  He  is  a  harmless  sort,  too,  and  we've  all 
known  him  for  years. ' ' 

Orane  laughed  in  return.  "I  didn't  suspect 
him,  sir,  of  carrying  the  popgun!  Thanks  so 
much  for  your  good  hospitality  and  your  good 
counsel ;  I  am  sure  I  shall  profit  by  both. ' ' 

Chugging    off   down   the   road,    the    detective 


158     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

turned  a  curve  in  leisurely  fashion  and  then, 
secure  from  observation,  he  studied  his  map  again. 

The  way  to  the  country  club  he  had  already 
ascertained,  but,  after  a  prolonged  scrutiny,  he 
selected  a  veritable  network  of  byways,  which 
finally  brought  him  to  the  gate  of  a  modest  little 
villa  modeled  after  the  Elizabethan  style.  Here 
he  left  his  car  in  the  roadway  and,  proceeding  up 
the  path,  was  on  the  point  of  ringing  the  bell 
when  a  woman's  voice  called  from  the  garden: 
"You  are  Mr.  Crane,  aren't  you?  If  you  want  to 
talk  to  me,  wouldn't  you  rather  sit  out  here?  It 
is  not  really  cold  yet,  you  know." 

Turning  he  beheld  the  woman  of  the  sweater 
whom  he  had  seen  that  morning  on  the  glen  road. 
Her  coppery  hair  glowed  in  the  sunlight.  She 
beckoned  invitingly  to  a  garden  seat,  and  nothing 
loath  the  detective  complied,  involuntarily  com- 
paring this  reception  with  that  of  the  morning 
from  another  hostess.  Whatever  Mrs.  Carter's 
secret  might  be,  she  was  evidently  unafraid  or 
unashamed  of  its  possible  consequences.  Glancing 
into  her  clear  eyes  Crane  felt  a  shade  of  com- 
punction. 

"I  am  very  sorry  to  intrude  upon  you,  Mrs. 
Carter."  Genuine  sincerity  rang  in  his  tones. 


THE  WOMAN  UPSTAIRS  159 

"I  have  just  been  lunching  with  Mr.  Estridge, 
and,  of  course,  our  conversation  hinged  upon  last 
night's  tragedy  at  the  country  club." 

"Naturally,  Mr.  Crane,  since  you  have  come  out 
here  to  investigate  it."  Her  steady  eyes  regarded 
him  unblinldngly.  *  *  Is  there  any  way  in  which  I 
may  assist  you?" 

"It  is  barely  possible,  Mrs.  Carter.  You  will 
forgive  me  for  recalling  to  you  the  moment  which 
so  unnerved  you  last  evening,  the  moment  in  which 
the  shot  was  fired  which  killed  my  colleague. ' '  He 
watched  her  face  narrowly  as  he  spoke,  and  it  did 
not  blanch  nor  weaken  as  Mrs.  Sowerby's  had 
done. 

"Perfectly,  Mr.  Crane.  Do  you  think  that  I  or 
any  one  else  present  could  forget  it?  That  poor 
young  man!"  The  lines  of  settled  sorrow  had 
deepened  around  her  mobile  lips. 

"You  had  been  up  invthe  ladies'  dressing  room, 
resting,  I  think,"  Crane  went  on.  "Was  there  no 
maid  assigned  there?" 

"Oh,  yes,  but  I  fancy  she  had  gone  down  to 
the  kitchen  or  pantry.  There  was  no  one  there 
when  the  singing  started,  except,  of  course,  Mrs. 
Sowerby.  I  left  her  and  then  came  downstairs." 

"What!"    The  exclamation  arose  unbidden  to 


160     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

the  detective's  lips,  and  instinctively  lie  amended 
it.     "Only  Mrs.  Sowerby!" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Crane.  When  I  descended  the  stairs 
Mrs.  Sowerby  was  resting  on  a  couch  in  one  of 
the  dressing  rooms.  There  could  have  been  no 
one  else  on  that  upper  floor. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE   SHOT  FEOM   THE  AIR 

TT  seemed  to  Crane,  despite  his  long  years  of 
•••  training  in  self-control,  that  his  face  must 
have  betrayed  his  surprise  at  Mrs.  Carter's  aston- 
ishing revelation,  but  he  did  not  permit  his  glance 
to  waver,  and  his  voice  was  as  steady  as  her  own 
calm  one.  "You  did  not  hold  any  conversation 
with  Mrs.  Sowerby  when  you  came  upon  her  in 
the  dressing  room?" 

1  'No.  There  are  two  rest  rooms,  you  know,  and 
I  had  been  reclining  in  the  other  one;  I  merely 
glanced  in  her  room  as  I  passed.  I  do  not  know 
when  she  went  downstairs.  As  I  told  you,  the 
sound  of  the  shot,  just  as  I  reached  the  bottom, 
stunned  me  so  that  I  was  practically  oblivious 
to  everything  about  me  for  some  little  time.  But 
in  what  way  can  I  help  you,  Mr.  Crane?"  She 
hesitated  and  then  added:  "I  trust  the  matter 
will  be  cleared  up  soon  and  the  murderer  discov- 

161 


162     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

ered,  not  only  in  the  interests  of  justice,  but  be- 
cause I  ana  thinking  of  going  away." 

She  glanced  off  as  she  spoke  toward  the  little 
cottage,  half  hidden  among  the  bare  trees,  and 
there  was  an  unmistakable  note  of  wistfulness  in 
her  tones.  The  controversy,  which  he  had  over- 
heard in  part  in  the  glen  that  morning,  returned 
to  the  detective's  mind,  and  her  final  words  rang 
again  in  his  ears :  ' '  The  world  is  wide  and  Broad- 
lawns  is  only  a  tiny  corner  of  it. ' '  Had  she  defied 
Dorrance  to  the  end,  and  would  what  he  meant 
to  tell  ruin  her  and  drive  her  forth  from  her  quiet 
homef 

"Isn't  your  decision  rather  a  hasty  one,  Mrs. 
Carter?"  His  tone  was  that  of  studied  indiffer- 
ence, but  the  one  in  which  she  replied  was  slightly 
shaken. 

' '  No.  I  have  not  discussed  it,  but  for  some  time 
I  have  considered  returning  to  my  old  home.  As 
soon  as  I  can  arrange  my  affairs  and  dispose  of 
my  little  place  here  I  am  going  back. ' ' 

"To  Raleigh?" 

"Who  told  you  I  came  from  there ? ' '  Her  voice 
had  steadied  once  more,  but  each  word  came  slowly 
as  though  carefully  chosen.  "As  a  matter  of  fact 
we  lived  quite  a  little  way  out  in  the  country, 
several  miles  from  any  one,  except  negroes  and 


THE  SHOT  FROM  THE  AIR         163 

what  are  known  down  there  as  'poor  whites." 
However,  after  my  husband's  death,  I  transacted 
my  financial  affairs  with  bankers  in  Raleigh  and 
naturally  gave  them  as  my  business  reference  on 
coming  here." 

"You  had  friends  here,  Mrs.  Carter1?  "Why  did 
vou  select  Broadlawns  as  your  home?" 

"A  mere  whim."  A  little  twisted  smile  came 
to  her  lips.  "I  wanted  to  get  away  from  the  South 
and  everything  that  would  remind  me  of  it.  I  had 
seen  pictures  of  the  Broadlawns  Country  Club  at 
the  time  of  a  golf  tournament,  several  years  ago, 
and,  when  I  came  to  New  York,  an  agent  for  sub- 
urban real  estate  whom  I  consulted  had  this  cot- 
tage on  his  list.  I  came  out  to  see  it  and  was 
charmed  by  the  whole  atmosphere  of  the  place,  but 
of  late  I  find  that  I  have  been  growing  homesick, 
and  the  climate  does  not  agree  with  me.  As  soon 
as  I  am  no  longer  needed  as  a  witness  for  that 
tragic  affair  at  the  club  I  want  to  return  to  North 
Carolina. ' ' 

1  'Yet  if  you  were  so  anxious  to  get  away  from 
everything  that  reminded  you  of  the  South,  you 
could  not  have  been  very  happy  there,"  Crane 
remarked.  "You  must  forgive  these  personal 
questions,  Mrs.  Carter,  but  I  shall  have  to  make 
out  the  fullest  possible  report  for  my  chief  con- 


164     THE  TRIGGER  OP  CONSCIENCE 

cerning  every  one  who  was  on  the  scene  of  the 
crime." 

"I  quite  understand, "  she  replied.  "My  mar- 
ried life  was  not  altogether  happy,  chiefly  be- 
cause of  the  loneliness  and  isolation  in  which  my 
husband  lived.  He  was  elderly  and  had  many 
eccentricities,  but,  after  his  death,  I  found  pleas- 
ant friends  in  Raleigh  during  the  short  period 
of  my  stay  there,  and  those  I  have  made  here 
are  less  congenial.*' 

"What  was  your  husband's  full  name,  Mrs. 
Carter,  and  when  did  he  die?" 

"Asa  Carter;  his  death  took  place  about  three 
and  a  half  years  ago.  My  maiden  name  was 
Nina  Shirley,  and  I  came  from  Charlotte.  I  was 
an  orphan  when  I  married  Mr.  Carter,  eleven 
years  ago.  Doubtless  some  of  my  former  school 
friends  in  Charlotte  would  remember  me,  but  I 
have  seen  none  of  them  since  my  marriage.  My 
husband  would  tolerate  no  visitors,  and  my  desul- 
tory correspondence  soon  languished.  Our  near- 
est post-office  address,  by  the  way,  was  a  tiny  ham- 
let called  Mosely.  I  think,  Mr.  Crane,  that  that 
is  all  the  information  I  can  give  you." 

Her  air  of  finality  was  pointed,  but  the  detec- 
tive made  no  move  to  depart.  Instead  he  asked : 
"Do  you  know  of  any  enmity  which  you  may  have 


THE  SHOT  FROM  THE  AIR         165 

incurred,  Mrs.  Carter,  either  here,  or  elsewhere? 
Is  there  any  one,  man  or  woman,  to  whom  you 
may,  however  unconsciously,  have  given  cause  to 
harm  you! " 

"What  a  strange  question!"  She  spoke  in  a 
low  voice  scarcely  above  a  whisper.  "Why 
should  any  one  wish  to  harm  me,  Mr.  Crane? 
I  came  here  a  stranger,  desiring  only  peace  and 
seclusion,  and  I  sought  no  society,  the  people 
hereabout  sought  me.  It  was  only  after  repeated 
urging  that  I  consented  to  become  a  member  of 
the  country  club,  but  I  have  participated  very  lit- 
tle in  the  social  life  there  and  have  made  no  really 
close  friendships.  To  my  knowledge  I  have  not 
an  enemy  in  the  world." 

"You  say  that  you  have  made  no  close  friend- 
ships, yet,  among  all  the  people  here,  with  whom 
have  you  most  frequently  been  associated?" 

For  a  moment  her  smooth  brow  wrinkled  as 
though  in  thought,  and  then  she  replied  hesita- 
tingly: "There  is  always  rumor  and  gossip  about 
a  woman  alone,  especially  in  a  small,  circum- 
scribed country-club  community.  I  have  avoided 
any  but  the  most  formal  associations  with  the 
members,  although  Mrs.  Fraser  has  been  very 
cordial,  and  I  have  found  little  Miss  Dare  most 
unaffected  and  charming."  She  paused.  "I 


166     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

have  occasionally  consulted  Mr.  Estridge  or  Mr. 
Sowerby  about  investments,  and,  when  I  first 
joined  the  club,  Mr.  Dorrance  offered  to  teach  me 
to  play  golf,  but  I  did  not  care  for  it  and  proved 
a  poor  pupil.  After  several  seasons  I  found  my- 
self barely  acquainted  with  the  others,  with  the 
exception  of  Mr.  Bowles.  He  has  been  assiduous 
in  his  attempts  to  relieve  my  loneliness.  If  any 
gossip  has  reached  your  ears  it  must  be  in  con- 
nection with  his  attentions  to  me,  but  they  are 
merely  those  of  a  friend;  I  have  no  intention  of 
ever  marrying  again.  Really,  Mr.  Crane,  I  can- 
not understand  what  these  questions  may  mean! 
Has  any  one  been  making  any  absurd  accusations 
against  me!'* 

Resentment  struggled  with  a  sort  of  resigned 
tolerance  in  her  tone,  and,  with  the  insufficient  data 
at  his  command,  the  detective  dared  not  betray 
the  knowledge  gained  by  overhearing  that  con- 
versation in  the  glen.  But  another  phrase,  which 
had  been  used  by  the  woman  before  him,  returned 
to  his  mind:  " Women  have  shown  me  scant  mercy 
in  my  life.'*  He  decided  to  make  one  last  effort. 

"No  one  has  been  making  any  direct  accusa- 
tions, Mrs.  Carter,  but,  as  you  say,  there  are  al- 
ways rumors  and  petty  gossip  in  a  place  like  this, 
not  only  about  you,  but  about  all  other  young  and 


THE  SHOT  FROM  THE  AIR          167 

attractive  women,  and  they  are  most  cruel  to  their 
own  sex.  These  are  merely  routine  questions,  for 
you,  in  common  with  the  others  who  were  present 
at  the  moment  of  the  murder  last  night,  have  es- 
tablished your  position.  But  can't  you  tell  me 
if  there  is  any  woman  who  has  been  unkind  to 
you  and  whom  you  have  in  your  power  to  aid  or 
injure  if  you  would?" 

Mrs.  Carter  rose,  and  the  setting  sun  glinted 
on  her  copper-red  hair  as  it  had  done  that  morn- 
ing, her  voice,  too,  holding  the  same  note  of  con- 
trolled contempt.  "I  realize  now  that  you  have 
already  been  listening  to  what  you  call  petty  gos- 
sip about  me,  Mr.  Crane,  but  I  do  not  -know  to 
what  you  allude.  None  of  it  has  reached  my  ears. 
However,  as  I  have  already  stated,  I  have  not  an 
enemy  in  the  world,  nor  is  there  any  one,  man  or 
woman,  whom  I  could  injure  if  I  would. ' ' 

Crane  rose  also,  and  his  frank,  boyish,  ingra- 
tiating laugh  broke  the  tension  in  the  air.  *  *  Mrs. 
Carter,  I  may  tell  you  in  confidence  that,  in  my 
preliminary  interviews  with  the  different  ladies 
of  the  country-club  colony,  each  one  has  seemed 
to  consider  the  others  their  potential  enemies.  I 
will  not  trouble  you  further  now,  and  I  will  not 
intrude  upon  you  again  until  the  inquest,  unless 
it  is  absolutely  necessary." 


168     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

His  hostess '  manner  softened  to  graciousness  as 
she  accompanied  him  to  the  gate.  ' '  I  wish  it  were 
within  my  power,  Mr.  Crane,  to  aid  you  in  your 
inquiry,  but  the  horrible  affair  of  last  nigh tx  is  as 
much  of  a  mystery  to  me  as  it  must  have  been  to  all 
those  present,  except  the  murderer  himself ;  more, 
in  fact,  since  some  of  the  house  committee,  at  least, 
must  have  known  why  poor  Mr.  Grant — or  Doyle 
— was  installed  in  the  club  in  the  first  place,  where- 
as the  majority  of  us  were,  and  still  are,  ignorant 
of  the  motive  for  his  presence  there." 

Taking  leave  of  her,  the  detective  cranked  up 
his  little  car  and  descended  into  the  valley.  Here 
the  homes  of  the  country-club  colony  clustered 
about  the  Colonial  mansion  of  Mrs.  de  Forest.  It 
was  not  to  that  august  matron,  however,  that  he 
paid  his  next  visit,  but,  aided  by  the  directions  of 
a  small  boy  whom  he  met  by  the  roadside,  he 
pulled  up  before  a  modern  bungalow,  its  grounds 
still  ablaze  with  late  autumn  flowers,  and,  alight- 
ing, asked  for  Mrs.  Fraser. 

She  appeared  almost  upon  the  heels  of  her  trim 
little  maid,  and  her  firm  handclasp  held  no  hint 
of  other  than  the  sentiments  which  she  expressed 
in  her  greeting.  "Can  I  help  you  in  any  way. 
Mr.  Crane?  My  brother-in-law  said  that  he  met 
you  at  the  coroner's  this  morning,  but,  unfortu- 


THE  SHOT  FROM  THE  AIR         169 

nately,  both  he  and  my  husband  have  gone  over 
to  the  club.  However,  if  I  may  be  of  any  assist- 
ance, I  shall  be  only  too  glad  to  answer  any  ques- 
tions to  the  best  of  my  knowledge." 

"Thank  you."  He  accepted  the  seat  to  which 
she  motioned  him  in  the  spacious,  chintz-hung 
drawing-room  and  regarded  her  appreciatively 
across  the  little  tea  table,  at  which  she  proceeded 
to  busy  herself.  Her  mouth  was  sensitive,  but 
humorous,  her  eyes  candid  and  clear  with  the  at- 
mosphere of  the  clean  out-doors  which  had  tanned 
her  skin  an  honest  brown  and  tinted  her  chestnut 
hair  with  a  faded  gold.  "I  asked  for  you,  Mrs. 
Fraser,  but  it  was  really  Mr.  Ralph  Fraser  I 
wanted  to  consult  once  more,  for  I  understand 
that  he  is  quite  an  authority  on  firearms." 

"That  sort  of  thing  is  a  hobby  with  Ralph,  but 
I  know  very  little  about  it;  I  have  a  horror  of 
killing  things."  She  gave  a  little  shiver. 
"Whenever  Ralph  comes  to  see  us  he  brings  some 
new  freak  pistol  or  deadly  trick  knife.  He  goes 
to  all  kinds  of  trouble  to  find  these  things,  but  it 
is  merely  the  enthusiasm  of  the  collector." 

"And  your  husband  does  not  share  it  any  more 
than  you?" 

She  laughed.  "Oh,  Jack  goes  duck  shooting 
every  year,  but,  aside  from  that,  I  believe  his  only 


170     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

passion,  beside  business,  is  golf;  he  is  as  crazy 
about  it  as  I  am,  and,  if  this  dreadful  thing  had 
not  happened  at  the  club  last  night,  we  were  going 
to  teach  Ralph  to  play  during  this  visit.  He 
brought  down  an  outfit  of  everything  suggested 
to  him  in  a  sporting-goods  shop." 

"Did  he  bring  anything  else,  Mrs.  Fraserl 
Any  new  freak  wreapon  w^hich  he  may  have  added 
to  his  collection?  I  should  like  to  see  it  if  he 
did.  I  am  interested  in  such  things  myself," 
the  detective  remarked  casually. 

"I  don't  know."  She  handed  him  a  cup  of  tea 
across  the  little  table.  "Ralph  only  arrived  on  the 
final  train  before  the  dance  last  evening,  and  I  was 
so  busy  dressing  and  seeing  that  he  was  served 
with  a  belated  dinner  that  I  really  did  not  pay 
much  attention  to  him  beyond  a  hurried  greeting. 
I  believe  I  did  overhear  him  tell  Jack  that  he  had 
some  rather  remarkable  curiosity  to  show  him 
later.  If  it  is  in  the  line  of  his  hobby  I  am  sure 
that  he  will  be  only  too  delighted  to  exhibit  it 
to  you,  too." 

Crane  stirred  his  tea  reflectively  for  a  moment 
and  then  observed:  "Of  course  I  am  trying  to 
interview  every  one  who  was  present  when  my 
colleague  was  killed  last  night,  but  it  is  rather  a 
large  order,  in  so  short  a  time,  before  the  inquest. 


THE  SHOT  FROM  THE  AIR         171 

Can  you  help  me  by  telling  me  something  about 
the  rest  of  the  people  who  were  there?" 

Mrs.  Fraser  raised  protesting  hands. 

" Don't  ask  me  for  current  gossip,  please!  I 
never  listen  to  any;  perhaps  that  is  why  I  am  on 
cordial  speaking  terms  with  evety  one.  They 
have  all  been  here  longer  than  we,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Mr.  Bowles,  who  only  became  a  member 
this  season,  and  Mrs.  Carter,  who  settled  here 
two  or  three  years  ago." 

"Mrs.  Carter  is  one  of  your  best  friends,  is 
she  not,  Mrs.  Fraser  ?"  Crane  put  the  question 
in  an  idly  inconsequential  tone,  but  his  hostess' 
surprise  at  its  tenor  made  her  reply  with  naive 
haste:  "Why,  no.  I  was  among  the  first  to  call 
upon  her,  and  I  found  her  very  interesting.  You 
see,  we  all  know  each  other's  every  mood  so  well 
out  here  that,  at  times,  we  bore  each  other  to  tears, 
and  a  new  personality  is  welcome.  I  tried  to  draw 
Mrs.  Carter  out  and  make  a  real  friend  of  her, 
but  there  is  something  baffling  about  her.  This 
something,  while  it  does  not  actually  repel  one, 
seems  to  hold  one  at  arm's  length.  She  has  al- 
ways been  very  pleasant,  but  I  do  not  feel  that  I 
know  her  any  better  than  on  the  day  of  my  first 
call."  Mrs.  Fraser  paused  and  drew  a  deep 
breath.  "But  all  this  is  dangerously  close  to 


172     THE  TEIGGEB  OF  CONSCIENCE 

gossip,  isn't  it?  Mrs.  Carter  is  reserved,  but 
really  very  charming." 

Crane  placed  his  teacup  upon  the  table.  *  *  Miss 
Dare  is  also  a  newcomer,  is  she  not!  And  Mr. 
Landon,  too?" 

"Oh,  Alice  Dare  is  sponsored  by  her  aunt,  Mrs. 
de  Forest,  who  is  quite  the  leader  of  everything 
out  here,  and  Gerald  Landon  is  our  own  house 
guest  and  a  dear  boy.  Jack  put  him  up  at  the 
club  for  the  season,  and  he  plays  splendid  golf ! ' ' 
she  exclaimed  enthusiastically.  "I  think  you 
know  that  he  has  a  position  in  the  bank  of  which 
Mr.  Sowerby  is  president,  and  he  and  Alice — but 
there — I  am  gossiping  again!" 

Crane  smiled.  "I  have  already  heard  rumors 
of  an  engagement  between  them,  Mrs.  Fraser,  so 
you  are  not  telling  tales  out  of  school. ' ' 

Her  face  sobered.  ' '  That  rumor  is  a  little  pre- 
mature, I  am  afraid,  for  they  are  both  mere  chil- 
dren without  a  penny  between  them,  and  Mrs.  de 
Forest  has  more  ambitious  plans  for  her  niece." 

"Mrs.  de  Forest  is  very  wealthy  herself,  is  she 
not?"  the  detective  asked.  "I  have  heard  of 
some  famous  diamonds  of  hers,  and  her  estate  on 
the  hill  seems  to  be  the  most  pretentious  on  the 
countryside. ' ' 

"Oh,  yes,  she  has  a  great  deal  of  money,  I  be- 


THE  SHOT  FROM  THE  AIE         173 

lieve,  but  Alice  is  an  orphan  and  wholly  depend- 
ent upon  her,"  Mrs.  Fraser  responded,  adding, 
with  a  little  laugh,  "I  suppose  the  whole  neigh- 
borhood has  heard  about  the  famous  de  Forest 
necklace,  but  she  hasn't  worn  it  lately.  I  fancy 
it  is  too  gorgeous  for  our  modest  set  out  here. 
You  are  not  going,  Mr.  Crane?  My  husband  and 
his  brother  ought  to  be  back  from  the  club  very 
shortly,  and  they  may  be  able  to  give  you  infor- 
mation of  more  value  than  I  have  been  able  to  do, 
especially  as  Jack " 

She  caught  herself  up  suddenly,  biting  her  lips, 
and  Crane  was  quick  to  follow  up  her  slip. 
"What,  Mrs.  Fraser?  Why  do  you  think  that 
your  husband  would  be  especially  able  to  give  me 
information  of  value?" 

She  flushed  beneath  the  clear  tan  of  her  cheeks 
and,  after  hesitating,  drew  a  deep  breath.  "I  am 
afraid  that  I  have  gone  too  far,  now,  not  to  ex- 
plain, but  I  hope  you  will  believe  me.  My  husband 
has  never  betrayed  the  confidence  of  any  one  else 
to  me,  but  wives  have  a  sort  of  way  of  divining 
things,  you  know,  and  Jack  is  a  member  of  the 
house  committee  of  the  club.  I  do  not  know  why 
that  poor  detective,  who  was  shot  last  night,  was 
ever  engaged  to  come  out  here,  but  I  believe  Jack 
does  know,  just  as  you  must.  That  is  why  I 


174     THE  TRIGGER. OF  CONSCIENCE 

thought  that  he  would  be  better  informed  of  the 
situation  and  able  to  help  you." 

"You  have  not  asked  him,  Mrs.  Fraser?" 
Crane  smiled  as  he  held  out  his  hand,  and  she 
smiled,  too,  as  she  placed  hers  within  it. 

"No,  Mr.  Crane.  I  knew  that  he  would  have 
told  me  if  he  could,  but  I  observed  last  night,  in 
the  excitement  following  the  shooting,  that  he  did 
not  seem  as  surprised  as  the  rest  at  the  penetra- 
tion of  your  associate's  disguise,  nor  even  at  the 
fact  of  the  murder  itself,  and  he  was  anxious  only 
to  discover  the  author  of  it.  Of  course  he  could 
not  have  anticipated  the  crime,  but  that  he  was 
not  astounded  when  it  did  take  place  shows  that 
there  must  have  been  a  very  serious  reason  for 
the  employment  of  a  private  detective  at  Broad- 
lawns — a  reason  as  serious  as  life  and  death  it- 
self! I  am  wondering " 

"Yes?"  he  asked,  as  she  hesitated  once  more. 

"Why  that  moment  of  all  others  was  chosen 
for  the  murder,  virtually  in  the  presence  of  a  score 
of  people,  when  the  poor  fellow  might  so  easily 
have  been  done  to  death  at  any  time  during  the 
past  month  in  one  of  his  solitary  rambles  about 
the  lonelier  stretches  of  the  golf  course.  Could  he 
have  been  on  the  point  of  succeeding,  in  whatever 
his  quest  was,  or  could  some  one  else  among  us 


THE  SHOT  FROM  THE  AIR         175 

have  discovered  his  identity  and  had  another 
cause  to  fear  the  presence  of  a  detective?" 

' '  What  made  you  think  of  that  ? ' '  Crane  asked 
quickly. 

"I  dare  not  accuse  anybody!"  She  had  paled 
beneath  her  tan,  and  her  reply  came  in  a  low  tone, 
surcharged  with  emotion.  "I  have  not  spoken 
of  this  to  any  one,  not  even  my  husband,  because 
I  was  not  sure  of  myself,  sure,  I  mean  that  my 
imagination  had  not  played  me  false.  Yet  it  has 
been  on  my  mind  ever  since,  and  I  do  not  think 
that  the  noise  of  the  shot  could  have  quite  robbed 
me  of  my  senses,  although  it  startled  me,  of  course. 
Besides,  I  saw  it  an  instant  before  the  sound 
came. ' ' 

"Saw  what,  Mrs.  Fraser?"  The  detective 
prompted  her  eagerly. 

' '  A  tiny  flash  of  light  like  a  spark,  which  winked 
and  went  out,  just  as  the  roar  of  the  shot  rever- 
berated through  the  wide  spaces  of  the  foyer." 

"You  were  standing  with  Miss  Dare,  your  hus- 
band, and  your  brother-in-law,  between  the  en- 
trance to  the  conservatory  and  the  door  leading 
to  the  billiard  room,  were  you  not?  Do  you  re- 
call in  what  direction  you  yourself  were  facing?" 
Crane  could  scarcely  restrain  the  excitement  which 
he  felt  from  betraying  itself  in  his  tones.  "Was 


176     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

it  toward  the  porch  and  the  window  where  the 
dragon  lantern  hung? " 

' '  No, ' '  she  responded  slowly.  * '  I  remember  dis- 
tinctly that  I  was  facing  straight  across  the  hall, 
past  the  foot  of  the  staircase  and  in  the  general 
direction  of  the  steward's  desk  and  the  entrances 
to  the  dining  and  smaller  supper  rooms.  I  was 
singing  with  the  rest  and  had  raised  my  eyes 
slightly,  as  most  amateurs  do  when  they  reach  for 
a  higher  note  than  their  usual  range.  That  is  how 
I  happened  to  see  the  tiny  flash,  I  suppose,  for 
it  seemed  to  start  quite  far  above  my  head,  above 
the  heads  of  any  one  there,  and,  in  the  brief  sec- 
ond before  it  disappeared,  I  fancied  that  it  moved 
slightly  in  a  downward  course.  It  was  as  though 
the  shot  were  fired  from  the  air." 

"  You  say  that  you  were  looking  past  the  foot  of 
the  stairs,  but,  if  that  moving  spark,  which  you 
saw,  were  above  the  heads  of  any  one  standing  on 
the  floor  of  the  rotunda,  could  it  not  have  come 
from  somewhere  upon  the  staircase  itself  I"  asked 
the  detective.  "  Think  carefully,  Mrs.  Fraser,  for 
it  is  important." 

But  Mrs.  Fraser  shook  her  head  with  decision. 
"No,  Mr.  Crane.  That  was  the  first  thought 
which  came  to  me  after  the  lights  were  turned 
on  and  the  body  discovered,  but  the  flash  was  much 


THE  SHOT  FROM  THE  AIE         177 

farther  over  toward  the  center  of  the  hall  than 
where  the  stairs  end." 

"Do  you  recall  who  was  standing  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  hall  when  the  lights  went  up?" 

"No!"  she  replied  quickly,  too  quickly  for  her 
assertion  to  carry  conviction.  Evidently  realizing 
this  she  added:  "In  the  general  excitement  it 
seemed  ages  before  some  one  found  the  switch 
for  the  lights,  and  then  everybody  was  rushing 
about  in  the  wildest  confusion.  But,  while  the 
people  were  assembling  for  the  singing  and  the 
string  orchestra  was  playing  the  introduction,  I 
noticed  several  people  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
hall;  Mrs.  de  Forest  in  her  chair,  the  Dorrances, 
Mr.  Bowles,  Murdock  behind  his  desk,  and  several 
others  moving  about  between.  Really,  Mr.  Crane, 
that  little  flash  may  have  meant  nothing.  ' ' 

1 1  Then,  if  it  were  not  the  flash  from  the  revolver 
shot  which  killed  Doyle — to  put  into  plain  words 
what  your  suspicions  really  mean,  Mrs.  Fraser — 
why  did  you  say  that  the  motive  for  his  murder 
might  have  been  other  than  the  errand  which 
brought  him  here,  that  some  one  else  among  you 
might  have  had  a  different  cause  to  fear  the 
presence  of  a  detective?" 

She  looked  genuinely  distressed.  "I — I  scarcely 
know ! ' '  she  said.  * l  Naturally  I  was  curious  why 


178     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

a  detective  should  have  been  installed  in  our 
peaceful  little  club  without  the  knowledge  of  the 
majority  of  the  members  in  the  first  place,  and, 
in  casting  about  in  my  own  mind,  I  could  think  of 
only  two  reasons  which  might  be  even  remotely 
possible ;  theft,  or  some  impending  social  scandal. 
None  of  those  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  hall, 
when  the  lights  were  lowered,  could  have  been 
thought  of  as  guilty  of  the  former,  for  the  steward 
is  the  essence  of  integrity,  and  the  rest  were  all 
members  like  ourselves.  As  for  scandal — sordid 
enough  to  reach  the  divorce  courts,  I  mean — that 
is  equally  unthinkable.  I  had  a  vague  idea,  with- 
out an  iota  of  knowledge  to  back  it  up,  that  some 
one  might  have  had  a  private  reason,  quite  apart 
from  our  lives  out  here,  for  fearing  Doyle's  pres- 
ence. Of  course  it  is  the  most  probable  thing, 
isn't  it,  that,  in  the  darkness,  some  stranger  stole 
up  from  the  rear  hall  beside  the  staircase " 

It  was  Crane's  turn  to  shake  his  head.  "And 
going  out  into  the  center  of  the  hall,  fired  that 
shot  which  seemed  to  come  from  up  in  the  air? 
No,  Mrs.  Fraser,  I  think  we  must  dismiss  that  as 
even  a  possibility.  But,  if  you  know  of  no  scandal 
and  no  theft,  may  I  ask  why  you  thought  Doyle 
was  sent  out  here?" 

"Well,  there  have  been  a  series  of  petty  thefts, 


THE  SHOT  FEOM  THE  AIR         179 

I  believe,  from  the  men's  lookers.  Besides,  minor 
complaints  have  been  made  about  the  way  the 
club  accounts  were  kept  during  the  summer.  Our 
real  clubhouse  secretary  left  very  suddenly  and 
supposedly  went  West  for  his  health,  just  before 
Mr.  Doyle  appeared  among  us,  you  know,  and, 
although  I  had  no  more  reason  to  suspect  him 
of  dishonesty  than  my  own  husband,  I  cannot 
think  of  any  other  reason  for  Doyle 's  having  been 
engaged  to  come  to  Broadlawns  at  all." 

"Mrs.  Fraser" — Crane  paused  at  the  doorway, 
to  which  she  had  accompanied  him — "you  will 
learn  at  the  inquest  why  my  colleague  was  sum- 
moned here,  and,  in  the  meantime,  I  want  to  thank 
you  for  being  as  candid  with  me  as  you  have. 
I  will  promise  you  to  keep  your  confidence. ' ' 

"I  may  have  been  indiscreet,  but  I  told  you 
only  what  I  thought  it  was  my  duty  to  disclose, 
even  though  I  may  have  been  mistaken  about  that 
little  flash  of  light,"  she  responded.  "If  it  is  not 
necessary  I  do  hope  that  you  will  not  mention  my 
silly  little  suspicions  to  any  one." 

He  promised  and  took  his  departure,  but,  as  he 
turned  his  flivver  into  the  road  that  led  to  the 
club,  the  detective  realized  that  his  clear-eyed, 
level-headed  hostess  had  told  him  as  much  as  she 
dared  of  her  real  suspicions,  that  she  would  not 


180     THE  TKIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

have  mentioned  them  had  they  been  either  petty 
or  silly,  and  that  in  her  he  had  discovered  a  pos- 
sible ally  who  might  prove  as  valuable  as  Estridge 
himself. 

He  had  started  out  that  morning  without  a  pos- 
sible clew  to  guide  him.  Now  he  was  returning  to 
the  club  with  a  multiplicity  of  vague  indicatioDs 
which  pointed  in  so  many  different  directions  that 
he  scarcely  knew  which  to  endeavor  to  trace  first. 

Why  had  Mrs.  Sowerby  lied  and  claimed  to  have 
been  in  the  conservatory?  In  reality  had  she  been 
upstairs  at  the  moment  the  fatal  shot  was  fired? 
What  was  the  secret  which  Dorrance  had  threat- 
ened to  divulge  concerning  Mrs.  Carter,  and 
whence  had  come  her  sudden  decision  to  leave 
Broadlawns? 

Aside  from  these  questions,  however,  two  others 
had  presented  themselves  to  Crane's  mind.  These 
he  determined  to  have  settled  without  loss  of  time 
by  his  operatives.  One  was  borne  of  a  too  hasty 
reply  in  the  coroner's  cottage  that  morning,  and 
this  question  was  unconsciously  attested  to  by  a 
remark  of  the  lady  whom  he  had  just  left;  the 
second  was  the  result  of  a  ray  of  sunlight  strik- 
ing through  the  bare  branches  of  trees. 

On  his  arrival  at  the  club  he  found  a  group  of 
men,  among  them  Rutherford  Sowerby  and  the 


THE  SHOT  FROM  THE  AIR         181 

Fraser  brothers,  evidently  awaiting  him  on  the 
veranda,  but,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  in  greet- 
ing, he  kept  on  around  the  drive  to  the  rear. 
There  the  ubiquitous  Murdook  hastened  out  to 
him  before  he  had  fairly  alighted,  and  he  re- 
quested that  the  two  men,  who  had  come  out  with 
him  from  the  agency,  be  summoned. 

" Walsh,"  he  began  without  ceremony  to  the 
younger  of  his  operatives,  "I  want  you  to  catch 
the  next  train  into  town — the  club  bus  will  take 
you  to  the  station.  I  may  want  my  own  car  here 
as  well  as  this  flivver.  Go  straight  to  the  old  man 
and  tell  him  I  want  you  to  go  to  Charlotte,  North 
Carolina.  Find  out  all  you  can  about  a  young 
girl  who  lived  there  eleven  years  ago,  an  orphan 
named  Nina  Shirley,  who  married  a  rich,  elderly 
man  named  Asa  Carter  and  went  to  live  on  an 
estate  near  Mosely,  a  village  not  far  from 
Raleigh." 

Walsh,  who  had  evidently  been  hearing  the  gos- 
sip of  the  club  servants,  smiled  knowingly.  "I  get 
you,  sir,"  he  answered.  "Tall,  good-looking 
vamp  with  red  hair  pulled  down  tight  over  her 
ears. ' ' 

"Not  red  hair — black!"  Crane  interrupted  him 
brusquely.  "I  don't  believe  it  was  red  until  she 
came  North,  Walsh.  Find  out,  if  you  can,  why 


182     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

she  wears  it  in  that  fashion ;  I  think  there  may  be 
a  reason  with  a  story  behind  it." 

After  he  had  concluded  his  instructions  and 
Walsh  had  departed  Crane  turned  to  the  other 
operative.  ' '  Jewett,  without  asking  any  questions 
of  anybody  or  making  yourself  too  conspicuous,  I 
want  you  to  nose  around  the  clubhouse  and  see  if 
you  can  find  in  the  wall  of  either  the  big,  round 
entrance  hall  or  the  conservatory  the  mark  of  a 
single  bullet  hole." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Crane."  Jewett  spoke  as  stolidly  as 
though  he  had  been  asked  to  find  a  package  of 
cigarettes.  "About  how  large  caliber  a  bullet 
would  it  be?" 

"Unless  I  am  very  much  mistaken,  Jewett,  it 
will  be  of  the  smallest  caliber  known — .22,  and  you 
will  find  the  mark  of  it  considerably  higher  than 
your  head." 


CHAPTER  XII 

"l  KILLED   HIM" 

*  {'IK  7"ELL,  Mr.  Crane,  have  you  been  making 

»  »     much  progress  f ' '  Rutherford  Sowerby 

demanded.     The  detective  had  joined  him  and  the 

Fraser  brothers  on  the  veranda,  a  few  minutes 

later. 

Crane  shook  his  head  noncommittally.  "I 
can't  tell  just  yet,  Mr.  Sowerby.  I  stopped  at 
your  house  this  morning,  and,  although  you  were 
not  there,  Mrs.  Sowerby  very  kindly  received  me. ' ' 

"What!"  demanded  the  ungallant  husband. 
"A  fat  lot  of  valuable  clews  she  could  give  you! 
All  the  gossip  and  petty  scandal  of  the  neighbor- 
hood!" 

1  'It  wasn't  what  Mrs.  Sowerby  told  me,  so  much 
as  what  she  did  not  tell  me,  which  I  found  of 
partial  interest  in  regard  to  the  case."  Crane 
smiled  and  turned  to  the  younger  of  the  Fraser 
brothers.  "  Everybody  is  most  hospitable  to  me 
out  here.  I  had  lunch  with  Mr.  Estridge,  and  just 

183 


184     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

now,  Mr.  Fraser,  your  wife  gave  me  a  very  delight- 
ful cup  of  tea."  As  he  spoke,  however,  the  de- 
tective looked  beyond  Jack  Fraser  to  the  latter 's 
brother-in-law  and  observed  that  Ralph  Fraser 's 
face  had  turned  a  dull,  brick  red. 

"Did  she  give  you  any  information  of  value? 
By  Jove,  I  wish  she  or  some  one  could!"  Jack 
Fraser  exclaimed.  1 1  Aside  from  all  selfish  notions 
about  the  scandal  of  the  thing  and  its  reactions 
upon  all  of  us  here,  more  or  less,  it  is  the  con- 
founded mystery  and  the  cowardly  way  the  poor 
fellow  was  done  to  death  that  gets  me !  Of  course, 
except  for  my  brother  here " 

"Oh,  don't  mind  me!"  Ralph  Fraser  rejoined. 
"I'm  only  an  outsider;  you  three  know  why  he 
was  brought  down  in  the  first  place  and  that  ought 
to  give  you  a  line  on  the  man  who  killed  him. 
You  can  mark  my  words,  though ;  this  inquest  of 
yours  out  here  on  Monday  won't  amount  to  a  hill 
of  beans.  I'll  watch  the  papers  for  the  real  re- 
sults when  I  get  back  to  Texas  and  Mr.  Crane 
has  had  a  chance  to  work  out  the  case." 

"I  hope  to  work  out  some  minor  details,  at  least, 
in  connection  with  it  before  that,  Mr.  Fraser," 
Crane  remarked. 

"Unless  mv  brother  is  held  as  a  material  wit- 


"I  KILLED  HIM"  185 

ness,  which  seems  a  most  remote  contingency,  he 
has  decided  to  go  directly  home  again."  Jack 
Fraser  turned  to  the  bank  president  as  he  spoke. 
1  *  It  will  disappoint  Elsie  a  lot,  for  she  had  looked 
forward  to  converting  him  to  golf  during  this 
visit.  But,  after  this  tragedy,  of  course,  the  club 
will  be  closed  for  the  autumn  and  winter,  at  least. ' ' 

' '  Yes, ' '  Ralph  assented  somewhat  grimly, '  *  after 
I  let  a  clerk  in  a  sporting-goods  store  sell  me  a 
mail  bag  full  of  dinky  little  clubs  and  a  couple  of 
boxes  of  balls ! ' ' 

"That  is  one  funny  thing  about  it!"  Jack 
laughed.  "If  you  happen  to  be  a  novice  and  you 
leave  it  to  those  chaps  they  usually  load  you  up 
with  all  sorts  of  useless  things,  but  the  one  who 
sold  you  that  outfit  of  yours,  Ealph,  must  have 
been  caught  napping,  for  he  left  out  one  of  the 
most  essential,  if  not  the  most  essential,  of  the 
lot!  I  went  through  your  bag  at  the  house  this 
morning  and  found  that  you  have  no  driver!" 

"Thought  you  brought  your  golf  bag  with  you 
when  you  came  over  to  the  dance  last  night,  Fra- 
ser," Sowerby  remarked.  "I've  got  a  battered 
old  driver  that  you  can  use,  if  they  keep  the  course 
open.  Don't  play  any  more  myself  since  I  broke 
my  ankle  in  that  motor  accident,  a  year  ago,  though 


186     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

my  wife  will  persist  in  calling  it  gout !  However, 
we're  getting  away  from  the  main  issue.  About 
that  shot  last  night,  Mr.  Crane " 

But  Renwick  Crane  had  slipped  away  quietly, 
without  a  word  of  excuse  or  apology,  and,  saun- 
tering past  the  conservatory,  where  Jewett  was 
painstakingly  looking  for  the  microscopic  bullet 
hole,  he  found  his  way  to  the  locker  room  at  the 
rear.  Its  sole  occupant  was  a  slim,  but  athletic- 
appearing,  young  man  in  the  late  twenties.  A 
healthily  tanned,  smooth-shaven  countenance 
turned  in  eager  curiosity  to  the  detective.  ' l  Hello, 
Mr.  Crane!  How  are  things  coming  with  your 
investigation?  I  guess  you  don't  remember  me, 
meeting  such  a  crowd  of  us  here  last  evening." 

"Yes,  I  do,"  Crane  said.  "You  are  the  Fra- 
sers'  friend,  Mr.  Landon,  aren't  you!  You  stood 
in  the  entrance  to  the  conservatory  when  that  shot 
was  fired,  I  think  you  told  us." 

The  young  man  nodded.  "Funny  thing  about 
that,"  he  remarked.  "It  must  have  been  my 
nerves,  of  course,  but  I  am  in  pretty  fair  condi- 
tion and  not  usually  jumpy.  I  could  not  actually 
have  heard  that  bullet  strike  Doyle's  body,  even 
without  the  roar  of  the  shot  still  pounding  in  my 
ears,  but  I  could  swear  that  I  heard  a  dull  sort 
of  'ping,'  right  near  me,  at  the  same  instant  that 


"I  KILLED  HIM"  187 

the  revolver  must  have  been  fired.  I  suppose  I 
was  closer  to  that  window,  where  Doyle  was  stand- 
ing, than  anybody  else,  but  not  close  enough  to 
hear  the  whir  of  the  bullet,  let  alone  the  impact 
when  it  found  its  mark.  Odd,  isn't  it?" 

"Very!"  The  detective  spoke  dryly,  but  the 
blood  leaped  suddenly  in  his  veins.  "I  have 
found  it  to  be  my  experience  that  imagination 
plays  strange  tricks  with  the  most  normal  of  us 
in  moments  of  tense  excitement.  The  entrance  to 
the  conservatory  is  wide ;  were  you  standing  nearer 
the  windows,  or  more  toward  your  right,  where 
the  Frasers  and  Miss  Dare  were  standing?" 

Gerald  Landon  bent  once  more  over  the  golf 
bag  and  the  clubs  he  was  examining,  but  not 
quickly  enough  to  hide  the  boyish  flush  which 
mounted  to  his  brow.  "I  was  standing  toward 
the  left  of  the  conservatory  entrance,  with  my 
back  almost  turned  to  the  windows  of  the  rotunda 
which  look  out  upon  the  veranda,"  he  replied 
frankly.  "I  happened  to  be  looking  straight  at 
the  group  of  people  you  mentioned  when  the  sound 
of  the  shot  came." 

"Then  you  saw  nothing  else  at  that  instant? 
No  sudden  flash  of  light  across  your  eyes,  for  in- 
stance?" 

"No,  Mr.  Crane,  not  until  the  hubbub  arose  and 


188     THE  TEIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

all  the  lights  were  turned  on  full.  I  can  tell  you 
that,  in  spite  of  all  that  I  went  through  overseas, 
I  had  a  sickish  minute  when  I  ran  out  on  the  ver- 
anda with  the  others  and  saw  that  poor  chap  ly- 
ing there!  I  liked  him,  and  I  believe  that  I  got 
to  be  more  chummy  with  him  than  any  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  club.  I'm  only  a  guest  here,  and,  of 
course,  I  had  no  more  suspicion  of  his  real  identity 
than  those  of  the  rest  of  us."  Landon  glanced 
up  with  a  whimsical  twinkle  in  his  eyes.  "May- 
be he  suspected  me,  though,  of  whatever  it  was  he 
came  out  here  to  investigate!  I  don't  think  so, 
for  it  seems  to  me  that  it  was  I  who  sought  his 
society,  and  he  was  a  quiet  sort  of  fellow;  never 
talked  much  or  asked  a  single  question  that  I  can 
remember.  I  used  to  drag  him  out  to  play  a 
round  of  golf  with  me  now  and  then.  Just  think 
of  it !  He  handled  this  very  driver  many  a  time ! ' ' 

As  he  spoke  the  young  man  held  out  a  golf 
club,  and  Crane  took  it  and  examined  it  gravely, 
mentally  noting  its  weight  and  shape  and  general 
difference  from  the  others  in  Landon 's  bag.  He 
handed  it  back  and  asked  casually:  "Haven't  seen 
an  odd  driver  lying  about  here  anywhere,  have 
you?" 

"No.  I'm  just  sorting  out  my  own  clubs  from 
Jack's,  for  I've  played  my  last  round  of  the  sea- 


"I  KILLED  HIM"  189 

son.  As  soon  as  the  inquest  is  over  I  shall  be  off 
for  town." 

Crane  sauntered  leisurely  around  the  room,  idly 
examining  such  lockers  as  were  open,  with  the  air 
of  an  interested  visitor,  but  his  keen,  darting 
glance  missed  nothing.  Then,  with  a  nod  to  Lan- 
don,  he  strolled  back  into  the  rotunda  once  more 
and  to  the  left  of  the  conservatory  entrance. 

Jewett,  who  was  still  pottering  about  within, 
suddenly  heard  a  low,  peculiar  whistle.  He  hur- 
ried out  to  find  his  superior  eying,  with  great  ab- 
sorption, a  small  spot  in  the  oak  paneling  of  the 
wall,  just  above  his  head. 

" That's  just  a  wormhole;  I  saw  it  before," 
Jewett  remarked.  "  There  are  plenty  more  of 
them  in  the  paneling  on  the  other  side  of  the  en- 
trance. The  steward  told  me  that  these  panels 
were  very  old  and  were  brought  from  some  other 
building  and  set  in  here." 

* '  Wormhole,  is  it  ? "  retorted  Crane.  '  *  I  Ve  seen 
antique  oak  before,  but  I  never  saw  a  wormhole 
like  freshly  bored  wood,  nor  one  that  dropped  a 
grain  or  two  of  new  sawdust.  Look  down  at  your 
feet." 

The  operative  did  so  and  uttered  an  exclamation 
of  amazed  vexation,  as  the  yellowish  specks 
glinted  back  at  him  from  the  floor  which  had  been 


190     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

highly  waxed  for  the  dance  of  the  previous  night. 

"That's  what  comes  of  taking  things  for 
granted.  It  explains,  also,  why  I  am  still  in  the 
old  rut,  though  years  longer  with  the  old  man  than 
you,  Crane ! "  he  declared.  * '  I  did  notice  that  hole 
up  there,  but  I  had  examined  the  others  pretty 
thoroughly  first,  and  I  didn't  think  it  would  be 
Y.*~ "* ':  while  to  probe  this  one." 

tone  was  so  crestfallen  that  Crane  withheld 
a  rebuke  and  merely  said:  "Get  a  chair  with  a 
wooden  seat  and  lend  me  your  penknife ;  its  blade 
is  longer  than  mine.  Look  sharp,  Jewett,  before 
that  group  on  the  veranda  are  wise  to  what  we  are 
doing.  Never  mind  about  excuses  now;  we  all 
make  mistakes." 

Jewett  obeyed  with  alacrity,  and,  mounting  the 
chair,  his  superior  took  from  him  the  knife  with 
its  keen,  narrow  blade  and  began  twisting  it  in 
the  tiny  hole  which  marred  the  time-mellowed 
grain  of  the  ancient  wood. 

Grain  after  grain  of  sawdust  fell  until,  as  the 
probe  ground  deeper,  it  began  pouring  in  a  con- 
tinuous trickle  upon  the  chair  and  floor.  The 
early  dusk  was  already  dimming  the  spacious  hall, 
and  Crane  worked  quickly  to  end  his  task  before 
Murdock  appeared  to  turn  on  the  lights.  At  last 
he  felt  the  point  of  the  knife  grate  against  some- 


"I  KILLED  HIM"  191 

thing  metallic,  and,  with,  a  muttered  exclamation 
of  satisfaction,  he  began  twisting  the  blade  in  a 
wider  circle. 

"Strike  something?"  asked  Jewett,  his  stolidity 
gone. 

"I  think  so,"  Crane  responded  cautiously  in  an 
undertone.  "That  bunch  still  out  on  the  porch?" 

"Yes.  There  were  only  three  of  them  before, 
but  now  there  are  a  couple  more, ' '  reported  Jewett 
after  reconnoitering.  "They  seem  to  be  moving 
toward  the  door  now;  I  guess  they're  breaking 
up.  What's  that?  Got  it?" 

Crane  stepped  down  from  the  chair,  turned  it 
about  with  its  back  to  the  wall  and  slid  it  quickly 
along  the  floor  to  a  distance  of  several  feet  from 
the  betraying  hole.  Then,  closing  the  knife,  he 
motioned  Jewett  to  follow  him  and  slipped  into  the 
conservatory.  It  was  only  when  they  were  se- 
curely hidden  from  view  behind  a  cluster  of  screen- 
ing shrubs  that  he  held  out  his  hand  to  his  com- 
panion. Upon  the  palm  a  diminutive  globule  of 
steel  winked  wickedly  back  at  them. 

"What's  it  mean?"  Jewett  demanded  in  a  whis- 
per and  proceeded  to  answer  himself.  "There 
was  two  shots  fired  last  night,  and  they  were  from 
different  revolvers.  Where's  the  one  this  came 
from?" 


192     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

"I  don't  know  yet,  but  I  think  that  when  we 
find  it — and  I  am  certain  that  it  is  still  about  the 
club  somewhere — it  will  prove  to  be  the  oddest- 
looking  weapon  of  its  size  that  you  ever  came 
across.  I  am  going  to  look  about,  and,  in  the 
meantime,  I  want  you  to  find  that  steward.  Don't 
let  him  out  of  your  sight  until  I  send  for  you." 

"No  fear  if  you  mean  that  Murdock!"  retorted 
Jewett.  "  He 's  been  tailing  me  all  day ;  I  couldn  't 
lose  him  for  a  minute,  and  the  questions  he 's  been 
asking  me  would  fill  a  book.  There — that  must 
be  him,  now!" 

During  his  speech  the  lights  had  sprung  up  in 
the  huge  circular  hall,  which  they  had  just  left, 
and  Crane  dropped  the  bullet  into  his  vest  pocket 
and  handed  the  knife  hastily  to  his  companion. 

"Here,  Jewett,  you  go  out  first  and  talk  to  him 
about  anything  under  the  sun  except  what  we've 
just  found.  Get  him  away  to  the  locker  room 
or  pantries  on  some  pretext,  so  that  I  can  beat 
it  out  of  here  without  his  knowing  that  we  have 
been  consulting  together." 

"All  right,  Mr.  Crane."  Jewett  grinned  and 
added:  "Judging  by  his  complexion,  I've  a  pre- 
text in  my  hip  pocket  that  will  make  him  go  off 
with  me  to  any  little  quiet  corner,  and  it 's  not  my 
gat,  either!" 


"I  KILLED  HIM"  193 

Left  alone,  Crane  made  a  careful  circuit  of  the 
conservatory,  dodging  like  a  shadow  from  one  tall 
shrub  to  another,  sweeping  aside  the  f  anlike  leaves 
of  the  palms  where  they  concealed  the  floor.  He 
looked  searchingly  into  every  corner,  but  with  no 
success.  Finally  he  emerged  and  was  instantly 
hailed  by  a  cluster  of  men  who  had  gathered  be- 
fore the  log  fire  on  the  hearth.  Beside  the  Fra- 
sers  and  Eutherford  Sowerby  the  group  now  in- 
cluded Samuel  Estridge  and  a  dapper  young  man 
in  a  Tuxedo,  whom  the  detective  recognized  as 
Mrs.  Carter's  companion  of  that  morning  in  the 
glen. 

Crane  strolled  over  to  them,  and  Estridge  pre- 
sented him  to  Mr.  Philip  Dorrance,  who  expressed 
his  pleasure  with  an  obviously  nervous  little 
cough.  * l  Just  dropped  in  for  a  minute  to  see  how 
the  investigation  into  that  sad  affair  of  last  night 
was  getting  on,  Mr.  Crane,"  he  explained.  He 
was  slightly  flushed,  and  his  pale,  prominent  blue 
eyes  gleamed  with  a  sort  of  triumphant  excite- 
ment. "Have  to  be  trotting  along  in  a  few  sec- 
onds. My  wife  and  I  are  dining  out  this  evening 
with  some  friends  down  toward  Eosemere,  and 
we  must  motor  several  miles.  She  sent  me — I 
mean  I  came  to  learn  if  anything  had  been  accom- 
plished toward  solving  the  mystery." 


194     THE  TEIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

His  loquacity  and  overcordiality  made  the  de- 
tective wonder  for  a  moment  whether  or  not  he 
was  exhilarated  solely  by  his  nervous  sensibility. 

"I  do  not  know  the  method  of  procedure  fol- 
lowed by  the  local  authorities,  Mr.  Dorrance,  nor 
whether  they  are  in  the  habit  of  disclosing  the 
initial  steps  of  their  progress  or  not,  but  we  do 
not  discuss  the  possible  clews,  which  we  have  ob- 
tained in  a  case,  until  We  have  reached  definite 
results."  Crane  spoke  in  a  pleasant  tone,  but 
the  meaning  of  his  words  sunk  in,  and  Dorrance 's 
flush  deepened. 

"Perhaps  it  would  have  been  better  for  this  fel- 
low Grant,  or  Doyle,  if  he  had  taken  some  one  into 
his  confidence/'  he  replied. 

"We  are  going  to  close  the  club  on  Monday  for 
an  indefinite  period,"  Estridge  announced  hur- 
riedly to  Crane.  "Of  course  Murdock  will  remain 
here  in  charge,  and  an  outside  man  or  two  will  be 
kept,  but  the  waiters  and  under-stewards  will  go. 
I  don't  imagine  that  any  of  us  will  care  to  gather 
here  again  until  the  spring  comes.  Sowerby  and 
I  are  going  to  dine  here  to-night,  and,  if  you  would 
care  to  join  us " 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Estridge,  you  gentlemen  are 
both  very  kind,  but  I  have  work  to  do  and  shall 
have  time  only  for  a  hurried  meal.  If  you  will  ex- 


"I  KILLED  HIM"  195 

cuse  me  now "  The  detective  was  retreating 

as  gracefully  as  possible  when  Jack  Eraser  called 
after  him :  ' '  None  of  us  are  going  just  yet,  except 
Mr.  Dorrance,  If  you  will  come  into  the  locker 
room  a  little  later  perhaps  we  can  show  you  some- 
thing that  will  merit  further  investigation  on  your 
part!" 

Crane  laughed  and  shook  his  head  as  he  disap- 
peared into  the  billiard  room,  but  the  laughter 
died  from  his  lips  When  the  door  had  closed  behind 
him,  and  he  relaxed  for  a  moment  upon  the  leather 
seat  which  ran  around  the  wall.  For  the  first 
time  he  felt  the  inertia  of  mental  and  physical 
fatigue.  He  had  frequently  worked  for  days  and 
nights  without  sleep,  but  then  there  had  been  some 
definite  lead  for  him  to  go  upon;  now  all  real 
clews  seemed  to  be  lost  in  a  maze  of  small  talk 
and  gossip  of  a  snobbish  community  where  not 
even  death  by  violence  was  taken  seriously  and 
each  person  appeared  to  care  only  for  his  neigh- 
bor's opinion. 

Then  the  detective's  hand  crept  up  to  his  vest 
pocket,  and  he  roused  himself.  The  bullet,  which 
reposed  there,  had  not  killed  his  colleague,  but  if 
he  could  discover  whether  it  had  been  sped  by  ac- 
cident or  design,  he  would  have  gone  a  long  way 
toward  simplifying  the  apparent  multiplicity  of 


196     THE  TEIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

possible  motives  for  the  murder.  Mrs.  Fraser's 
keen  wits  had  probed  to  the  depths  of  the  mystery 
without  her  even  having  knowledge  of  the  loss  of 
Mrs.  de  Forest's  necklace;  surely  he,  with  his 
training  and  experience,  was  not  to  be  baffled 
now! 

Rising,  he  began  pacing  back  and  forth  in  the 
narrow  aisle  between  two  pool  tables,  his  mind 
alert  once  more.  Where,  in  the  short  space  of  a 
minute  or  two  at  most,  could  any  one  have  gone 
from  the  farther  side  of  the  hall,  whence  had  come 
that  tiny  flash  of  light  when  the  shot  rang  out,  and 
where,  unobserved  or  unnoted,  had  he  or  she  con- 
cealed so  cumbersome  an  object  as  that  which  he 
sought?  Not  upstairs,  for  Mrs.  Carter's  pres- 
ence upon  the  lowest  step  guarded  that  domain; 
not  out  to  the  rear  of  the  club  where  a  host  of  gos- 
siping servants  would  have  been  waiting  with  curi- 
ous eyes  and  prattling  tongues,  nor  upon  the  ve- 
randa with  its  excited  group  about  the  dead  man. 

Neither  could  the  weapon  have  been  concealed 
in  the  conservatory  nor  locker  room,  for  he  had 
already  searched  both.  What  hiding  place  for  it, 
then,  remained? 

Crane's  eyes  were  lowered  in  thought  as  he 
paced  reflectively  to  and  fro.  Suddenly  he 
paused,  and  the  question  in  his  mind  was  answered 


"I  KILLED  HIM"  197 

at  last.  From  beneath  one  of  the  tables,  resting 
upon  the  bracket  provided  for  it,  protruded  the 
handle  of  the  bridge  used  in  making  difficult  shots. 
From  the  corresponding  bracket,  under  the  edge 
of  the  other  table,  there  appeared  a  handle  of 
quite  another  kind. 

It  was  a  grip  of  leather  and  slanted  at  a  sharp 
angle  which  denoted  its  unusual  brevity  when 
compared  to  the  ordinary  bridge.  Crane  stooped 
and  glanced  beneath  the  table,  then  closed  his 
fingers  gingerly  about  the  leather  grip  and  drew 
forth  a  new  golf  club  of  highly  polished,  but  sing- 
ularly heavy  wood. 

Meanwhile  the  group  about  the  fireplace  in  the 
great  hall  remained  intact.  Young  Dorrance 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  his  announced  intention 
of  immediate  departure  and  was  holding  forth 
sarcastically  about  the  ability  of  all  detectives, 
official  and  private.  Only  the  Frasers  disputed 
with  him,  for  Sowerby  and  Estridge  were  con- 
versing aside  in  lowered  tones,  but  all  five  wiere  so 
deeply  engrossed  that  they  failed  to  observe  the 
cat-footed  Murdock  when  he  took  his  accustomed 
place  behind  his  desk.  A  tall,  ungainly  stranger, 
with  whom  he  appeared  to  be  upon  the  best  of 
terms,  lounged  confidentially  across  the  counter. 

Neither  did  any  of  them  become  aware  of  the 


198     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

reappearance  of  Crane.  He  passed  them  silently, 
one  hand  held  behind  him,  and  joined  the  two  at 
the  steward's  desk.  Jewett  glanced  in  quick  in- 
quiry at  his  superior,  and,  when  the  latter  nod- 
ded, he  stepped  aside  and,  entering  the  little  office, 
he  took  up  his  stand  directly  behind  Murdock,  but 
the  steward  was  oblivious  to  his  presence. 

He  stood  as  though  transfixed,  gazing  with  a 
sort  of  horror  at  the  golf  club  which  the  detective 
laid  upon  the  counter  before  him,  and  it  was  only 
when  Crane's  voice,  grown  swiftly  stern,  rang 
out  through  the  hall  that  the  five  men  by  the  hearth 
ceased  their  several  discussions  and  moved  instinc- 
tively forward. 

"Murdock,  is  this  the  golf  club  with  which  you 
reached  out  to  touch  that  passing  waiter  last 
night,  at  the  moment  when  the  shot  was  fired?" 

"I — I  don't  know,  sir!"  the  wretched  steward 
exclaimed.  "I  told  you,  sir,  that  I  shouldn't  be 
able  to  tell  if  I  saw  it  again!" 

"You  put  it  back  in  the  bag  beneath  the  counter 
before  you  vaulted  over  and  out  to  the  veranda, 
to  where  Doyle's  body  lay?" 

"Y— yes,  sir!" 

' '  Then  how  do  you  explain  its  presence,  in  place 
of  one  of  the  bridges,  under  a  pool  table  in  the 
billiard  room?" 


"I  KILLED  HIM"  199 

"I  haven't  the  least  idea,  sir.  The  bag  and 
all  were  gone  when  I  tried  to  show  it  to  you,  if 
you  recall,  sir!"  Murdock's  ruddy  face  had 
blanched,  and  he  was  trembling  visibly. 

"Perhaps  you  could  tell  if  this  were  the  same 
club  or  not  by  taking  it  up  and  flourishing  it  as 
you  did  last  night,  Murdock."  A  note  of  com- 
mand had  entered  the  detective's  tones.  "Grasp 
it  by  the  head." 

' '  But  I  didn  't,  sir ! "  The  steward 's  pallid  face 
took  on  a  waxen  hue.  "I  must  have  lifted  it 
from  the  bag  by  the  head,  of  course,  but  I  swung 
it  out  by  the  grip.  I — now  that  I  look  at  it,  sir, 
I  am  positive  that  this  is  not  the  same." 

"Try  it  and  see."  Crane's  inexorable  voice 
directed.  "Take  up  that  driver  and  show  me 
just  what  you  did  last  night ! ' ' 

Murdock  glanced  about  him  wildly  for  a  means 
of  escape,  and  for  the  first  time  he  became  aware 
of  the  five  men  who  had  ranged  themselves  behind 
the  detective.  One  of  them  uttered  a  startled  ex- 
clamation and  advanced  a  step  or  two,  but  at  that 
moment  the  steward  broke  down. 

"I  can't,  sir!"  he  said.  "It's  no  use  for  me 
to  bluff  any  longer!  May  God  forgive  me — I 
killed  him!" 


CHAPTER  XHI 

THE  DKIVER  OF  DEATH 

T  TIS  dramatic  confession  of  the  murder  ended 
••••••  in  a  cry  that  echoed  back  from  the  high- 
arched  ceiling  of  the  hall,  and  Murdock  collapsed 
and  would  have  fallen  to  the  floor  had  not  Jewett 
grasped  him  beneath  the  arms  from  behind  and 
supported  him  to  the  chair  beside  the  small  safe. 

Of  the  five  men,  standing  back  of  Crane  on  the 
other  side  of  the  steward's  desk,  only  Samuel 
Estridge  strode  forward.  "You,  Murdock?"  he 
exclaimed.  "That's  stuff  and  nonsense!  You 
never  killed  Doyle — you  haven't  the  nerve  to  harm 
a  flea!" 

Jack  Fraser  cast  a  swift,  troubled  glance  at  his 
brother,  whose  face  was  a  study.  Ralph  Fraser 
stood  immovable,  without  meeting  his  eyes. 
Philip  Dorrance  had  fallen  back,  his  weak  mouth 
beneath  the  small,  sleek  mustache,  working  like 

that  of  a  rabbit  in  his  startled  amazement,  and 

200 


THE  DRIVER  OF  DEATH  201 

old  Rutherford  Sowerby  sputtered  and  snorted, 
but  no  words  would  come. 

The  steward  had  buried  his  face  in  his  hands 
and  was  swaying  back  and  forth.  Deep  sobs 
racked  him.  It  was  doubtful  if  he  even  heard  the 
famous  criminal  lawyer's  expostulation,  but,  when 
Crane  spoke,  the  questions  penetrated  to  his  all 
but  distraught  brain. 

* '  If  you  shot  Doyle  how  did  you  do  it,  Murdock  f 
What  motive  had  you?" 

"None,  sir,  I  swear  it!"  Murdock  raised  a 
face  suddenly  grown  old  and  haggard.  "I  don't 
know  how  I  shot  him.  I  never  meant  to  do  it! 
It  was  that  devil's  machine  which  you  just  laid 
on  my  desk  there,  sir — that  thing  that  looks  like 
a  driver.  It 's  some  kind  of  a  gun,  and  it  went  off 
in  my  hands ! ' ' 

"Not  a  devil's  machine,  but  merely,  I  think,  a 
cleverly  concealed  weapon  of  unique  design." 
Crane  turned  suddenly  and  faced  Ralph  Fraser. 
"It  is  the  driver  missing  from  your  set  of  clubs, 
is  it  not,  Mr.  Fraser?  A  driver  which  projects 
not  golf  balls,  but  these!" 

He  held  out  upon  his  open  hand  the  tiny  steel 
bullet  which  he  had  pried  from  the  oak  paneling, 
and  Ralph  Fraser  squared  his  shoulders  and  came 
forward. 


202     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

"Yes,  it  is  mine,"  lie  said.  "I  brought  it  as  a 
surprise  for  my  brother  and  his  friends  to  see, 
and  I  never  thought  that  an  accident  like  this 
could  occur !  I  had  a  mighty  bad  time  of  it  after 
that  shot  sounded  in  my  ears,  I  can  tell  you,  but 
it  didn't " 

"How  was  I  to  know  he  was  a  detective!"  asked 
Murdock.  He  was  too  perturbed  to  grasp  the 
significance  of  the  interrupted  sentence.  1 1 1  never 
did  know  for  sure  until  last  night,  but  I  suspected 
him  from  the  very  first  day  he  came,  and  we  began 
going  over  the  books  together.  When  they  bring 
them  into  court,  and  it's  proved  how  I've  been 
changing  the  accounts  right  along,  thieving  every- 
where I  could,  nobody  ever  will  believe  that  I 
didn't  know  what  that  thing  was — that  I  didn't 
pick  it  up  and  shoot  purposely  at  him  when  the 
lights  were  out!" 

"What's  that!"  Sowerby  found  his  voice  and 
emitted  it  in  a  sudden  roar,  as  he  stepped  forward. 
"What's  that  about  your  falsifying  the  accounts, 
Murdock,  and  embezzling  from  the  club?" 

"It's  true,  sir,  all  of  it!"  Murdock  replied. 
"All  but  that  I  meant  to  kill  the  man  you  put  on 
my  track !  I  'd  have  run  away,  maybe,  but  I  never 
wbuld  have  harmed  him." 

"Oh,  I  can't  stand  this!"  Ralph  Fraser  broke 


THE  DRIVER  OF  DEATH  203 

in  impetuously.  "What's  the  good  of  torturing 
the  fellow?  Crane,  here,  knows  as  well  as  I  do 
that  he's  inno " 

"Stop!"  The  detective  spoke  in  a  peremptory 
undertone.  "We'll  get  the  confession  of  what 
he  did  do,  Mr.  Fraser,  before  we  reassure  him  as 
to  what  he  didn't  do." 

*  *  What  did  you  do  it  for,  Murdock  f ' '  Estridge  's 
persuasive  voice  sounded  before  the  indignant 
Sowerby  could  bellow  again.  "You've  been  with 
us  ever  since  we  founded  the  club,  and  we  trusted 
you  as  we  would  have  trusted  each  other.  You 
never  complained  about  the  amount  of  your  salary. 
How  much  have  you  taken  from  us,  and  how  long 
has  this  been  going  on?" 

"For  a  little  more  than  a  year,  sir,  and  I've 
kept  account  of  every  penny,  meaning  that  you 
should  have  it  back  from  my  life  insurance." 
Murdock 's  usually  impassive  countenance  was 
working  with  emotion.  "I  knew  how  I  was 
trusted,  and  I  couldn't  sleep  nights  with  the  shame 
of  it,  but  none  of  you  seemed  to  miss  the  money, 
so  it  didn't  make  me  feel  as  bad  after  a  time,  and 
I  went  on  taking  more  and  more!  I've  had  a 
matter  of  over  two  thousand  dollars  from  the 
club  since  I  started  to  run  crooked,  and  nobody 
suspected,  not  even  the  last  secretary,  Martin.  An 


204     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

increase  of  salary  wouldn't  have  helped,  you  see, 
sir ;  I  had  to  have  more  than  that,  but  I  'd  counted 
the  cost,  like  any  careful  man  would,  and,  if  I 
was  caught,  I'd  meant  to  take  my  medicine.  I 
never  intended  to  harm  a  hair  of  Doyle's  head!" 

"May  I  interfere  for  a  moment,  Mr.  Estridge?" 
asked  Crane.  "I  know  this  particular  matter  is 
not  my  province,  but,  in  a  way,  it  is  connected 
with  the  case  upon  which  I  am  working." 

"Certainly,  Crane.  Go  ahead,"  the  lawyer  re- 
sponded briefly  after  a  keen,  searching  glance  at 
the  other's  face. 

"Murdock,  you  say  that  you  have  kept  account 
of  every  penny  which  you  have  stolen  from  the 
members  of  this  club.  Where  is  this  account?" 

"Here,  sir!"  Murdock  thrust  a  trembling  hand 
in  his  breast  pocket  and  drew  forth  a  little  red 
notebook.  Jewett  took  it  from  him  and  passed  it 
across  the  counter  to  Crane.  "It's  got  the  amount 
and  the  date  and  the  page  on  the  club  books  where 
I  changed  each  item.  I'm  glad  I've  told,  for  it 
is  a  load  off  my  mind;  but  if  only  you  could 
believe  that  I  never  knew  what  that  deadly  thing 
was  when  I  picked  it  at  random  from  the  bag 
at  my  feet !  'Twas  not  me  that  killed  Doyle !  It 
was  the  devil  himself  that  sped  the  shot!" 

"No,  Murdock,  you  did  not  kill  Doyle!     The 


THE  DRIVER  OF  DEATH  205 

bullet,  which  flew  from  this  concealed  revolver 
when  you  accidentally  released  the  firing  pin  in 
the  head  of  the  club  is  this  bullet  which  I  hold  in 
my  hand.  See!"  He  held  out  the  little  steel 
globule.  "It  harmed  no  one,  but  imbedded  itself 
in  the  oak  paneling  over  there. " 

Amid  amazed  exclamations  from  all,  except 
Ralph  Fraser  and  Jewett,  Murdock  started  from 
his  chair  with  protruding  eyes. 

1  i  You — you  mean  that,  sir  ? "  he  asked  hoarsely. 
"It's  the  truth  you  are  telling  me?  I  didn't  kill 
him,  after  all?  Oh!  Thank  God!  Thank  God!" 

He  sank  back  in  his  chair  and  buried  his  face 
in  his  hands,  sobbing  aloud  in  the  reaction  of  re- 
lief, while  the  others  crowded  around  Crane  with 
excited  questions. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  Sowerby's  voice  rose 
above  the  rest. 

"It  means,  gentlemen,  that  two  shots  were  fired 
simultaneously,  this  one,  by  the  miracle  of  acci- 
dent, going  off  at  the  same  instant  as  the  other. 
But  I  will  explain  later.  Murdock,  the  story  you 
told  me  was  partly  the  truth,  then?" 

"Yes,  sir,  partly."  Murdock  wiped  his  eyes 
and  straightened  in  his  chair.  "I  told  you  the 
truth,  but  not  all  of  it.  The  lights  were  lowered, 
and  the  singing  was  going  on.  I  saw  that  waiter 


206     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

from  the  caterer's  starting  to  pass  my  desk  on 
his  way  to  the  supper  room.  Thinking  to  stop  him 
from  disturbing  a  minute  that  was  as  sacred  as 
church,  I  reached  down  into  the  golf  bag.  Some- 
body had  left  it  under  the  counter  for  safe-keep- 
ing, instead  of  taking  it  to  the  locker  room  where 
it  properly  belonged.  This  instrument  of  Satan 
was  the  first  stick  which  came  to  my  hand,  and  I 
took  hold  of  it,  without  looking,  and  drew  it  out.  I 
only  meant  to  tap  the  fellow  on  the  arm  with  it 
and  motion  him  back,  and  it  all  happened  in  a 
minute,  though  it  takes  long  to  tell  it.  As  I 
grabbed  it  I  must  have  flourished  it  in  the  air, 
for  I  felt  something  jump  under  the  head,  there 
was  a  wee  flash  of  light  in  front  of  me,  and  then 
there  came  a  crash  fit  to  wake  the  dead.  You 
gentlemen  all  know  what  happened  after  that ;  the 
sound  of  something  falling  outside  and  the  excite- 
ment and  the  lights  going  up  once  more  and  every- 
body crowding  out  on  the  veranda.  I  rushed  out 
with  the  rest,  but,  when  I  saw  what  I'd  done — 
or  thought,  until  a  minute  ago,  that  I'd  done — 
something  seemed  to  die  inside  of  me,  too,  and 
then  I  remembered  that  I  still  had  in  my  hand  the 
thing  that  had  fired  the  shot.  I  was  fairly  crazed 
to  get  rid  of  it,  and  there  wasn't  time  to  put  it 
back  in  the  bag.  Before  anybody  took  hold  of  the 


THE  DRIVER  OF  DEATH  207 

affair  and  began  to  give  orders  I  ran  back  into 
the  billiard  room  and  pushed  the  club  under  one 
of  the  tables,  with  the  grip  leaning  on  an  empty 
bridge  rest.  No  one  missed  me  or  knew  that  I 
had  touched  any  of  the  clubs  under  my  desk,  until 
Mr.  Crane  suspected." 

"You  changed  the  books  and  stole  from  our 
accounts,"  Estridge  observed,  as  though  he  had 
not  been  following  the  explanation  of  the  previous 
night 's  event.  *  *  Did  you  pilfer  anything  from  the 
lockers,  or  the  ladies'  dressing  rooms,  or  pick  up 
any  articles  of  value  that  the  members  may  have 
dropped ? ' ' 

"No,  sir.  I've  found  things  from  time  to  time, 
like  Mr.  Sowerby's  scarf  pin  and  Mrs.  Dorrance's 
gold  bag,  but  they  've  always  been  promptly  posted 
on  the  bulletin  board,"  responded  Murdock. 
"Somehow  it  didn't  seem  like  stealing,  just  to 
alter  the  books,  especially  as  none  of  you  missed 
the  few  dollars  that  meant  so  much  to  me. ' ' 

"Then  you  have  never  retained  unlawful  posses- 
sion of  anything  belonging  to  a  club  member, 
whether  its  disappearance  was  mentioned  or  not?" 
the  lawyer  asked. 

"Never,  sir.  I — I've  told  you  everything.  I 
can't  restore  the  money  now,  but  I'm  ready  to 
make  whatever  amends  you  gentlemen  and  the 


208     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

law  require  of  me. ' '  He  buried  his  head  again  in 
his  hands.  "I  might  have  known  that  I  would  be 
caught,  sooner  or  later,  but  I  had  no  choice." 

"Why?"  Estridge  asked  again.  "Why  have 
you  needed  so  much  extra  money  during  this  past 
year?  After  your  years  of  faithful  service,  Mur- 
dock,  why  didn't  you  come  to  one  of  us  for  a 
loan?" 

"I  couldn't,  sir,  without  explaining  what  I 
wanted  it  for,  and  that  would  have  been  as  much 
as  my  position  here  was  worth.  Besides  I  ex- 
pected each  month  to  recoup. ' ' 

1 1  You  were  gambling  ? ' '  The  lawyer 's  tone  was 
sharpened  with  incredulity,  and  even  Sowerby 
looked  his  amazement.  Murdock's  native  Scotch 
thrift  and  canniness  had  become  proverbial  around 
the  club. 

"Well,  sir,  you  might  call  it  that,  in  a  manner 
of  speaking."  The  steward  hesitated.  "I — I 
acted  on  some  tips  which  came  my  way  in  a  fashion 
that  I  can't  explain,  and  I  won  just  enough  now 
and  then  to  make  me  keep  on,  thinking  that  one 
more,  a  flyer  would  not  only  let  me  put  back  all 
I  had  taken,  but  leave  me  a  bit  more." 

"  'A  flyer!'  "  repeated  Sowerby.  "You  were 
playing  the  stock  market,  Murdock?  Who  gave 


THE  DRIVER  OF  DEATH  209 

you  the  tips?  If  you  are  frank  with  us  we  may 
come  to  some  arrangement." 

Murdock  shook  his  head,  and  his  rugged  jaw  set. 
' '  I  'm  sorry,  sir, ' '  he  said  decidedly.  * '  All  my  own 
savings  went  with  what  I  took  from  the  club 
accounts,  or  I  could  make  a  partial  restitution. 
It  was  the  stock  market,  but  I  can't  tell  you  where 
the  tips  came  from,  nor  how  I  got  them.  'Twas 
my  own  savings  that  went  first,  before  I  thought 
of  tampering  with  the  books,  but  well  I  know  that 
is  no  excuse.  There's  nothing  more  that  I  can 
say,  sir.  I've  confessed,  and  I'm  ready  to  go  to 
prison." 

Motioning  to  Jewett  to  stand  guard  over  him, 
Crane  turned  to  the  others.  ' '  Gentlemen,  we  have 
just  time  for  a  brief  conference  before  your  dinner 
engagements.  Shall  we  adjoin  to  the  billiard 
room?" 

"Not  I!"  Philip  Dorrance  exclaimed  in  some 
haste.  "It  is  a  wonder  that  my  wife  has  not  tele- 
phoned for  me  before  this.  You  won't  mind,  I'm 
sure,  if  I  trot  along!" 

No  one  evincing  the  slightest  interest  in  his 
continued  presence,  the  young  man  took  his  depar- 
ture, and  Crane  picked  up  the  driver  from  the 
desk  and  led  the  way  to  the  billiard  room. 


210     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

"It  seems  incredible!'*  Jack  Fraser  ejaculated. 
"I  could  swear  that  I  only  heard  one  shot.  The 
chances  are  a  million  to  one  against  such  a  coin- 
cidence. " 

"The  odds  are  not  as  great  as  that,"  observed 
Estridge  thoughtfully.  "I  have  seen  things 
proved  in  court,  in  more  cases  than  one,  which 
apparently  only  a  miracle  could  have  brought  to 
pass.  We  will  have  to  decide  later  what  is  to  be 
done  about  Murdock's  falsification  of  the  accounts, 
but  I  am  inclined  to  believe  his  story  of  the  acci- 
dental shooting.  Mr.  Fraser  can  tell  us  if  he  did 
leave  his  golf  bag  containing  that  freak  weapon 
behind  the  desk." 

Ralph  Fraser  nodded.  "I  did,"  he  affirmed. 
"We  arrived  late,  and,  as  I  had  that  dance  with 
my  sister-in-law,  I  did  not  wait  to  go  to  the  locker- 
room,  but  leaned  over  and  rested  my  bag  under 
the  counter.  I  didn't  dream  that  any  one  would 
molest  it,  for  Jack  had  mentioned  that  he  often 
did  this  when  he  was  in  a  hurry.  I  handed  my 
coat  and  hat  to  the  nearest  steward.  It  was 
criminally  careless  of  me  to  have  left  the  gun 
loaded,  of  course,  but  that  was  sheer  vanity  on  my 
part;  I  wanted  to  take  it  somewhere  out  on  the 
green  to-morrow,  where  it  would  be  safe,  to 
astonish  my  brother  and  you  gentlemen  with  a 


THE  DRIVER  OF  DEATH  211 

little  impromptu  target  practice.  I  can  tell  you 
that,  until  the  coroner  stated  this  morning  that 
the  bullet  which  killed  your  man  was  a  .32  I've 
been  through  Hades ! ' ' 

"Where  did  you  get  the  thing,  anyway?"  Jack 
asked.  "How  does  it  work!" 

*  *  One  of  the  head  officials  of  a  big  firearms  com- 
pany— I  gave  him  my  word  not  to  mention  his 
name,  and,  as  no  actual  harm  has  been  done 
except  to  an  oak  panel  and  the  nervous  system  of 
the  steward,  to  say  nothing  of  my  own,  I  think  I 
may  be  permitted  to  keep  my  promise — is  a  bug  on 
golf,  and  he  doped  this  out  merely  as  a  curiosity. 
I  happened  to  be  in  a  position  to  do  a  favor  for 
him,  and,  knowing  my  hobby,  he  presented  it  to 
me."  Ralph  Fraser  took  up  the  club  from  where 
Crane  had  placed  it  on  a  billiard  table.  * '  Don't  be 
alarmed,  gentlemen,  I  know  how  to  handle  it 
safely.  It  really  is  shaped  precisely  like  a  driver, 
you  see,  but  there  is  a  hollow  metal  tube  or  barrel, 
concealed  in  the  shaft,  and,  when  the  head  is 
pressed  in  a  certain  way,  it  releases  a  firing  pin 
which  discharges  a  .22  caliber  bullet  through  the 
grip.  My  friend  tried  to  work  it  out  with  a  trig- 
ger, but  it  wasn't  practicable.  I  thought  it  a 
mighty  neat  little  contrivance  and  an  interesting 
addition  to  my  collection,  but,  after  last  night,  I 


212     THE  TBIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

never  want  to  see  the  wretched  thing  again!" 

He  laid  it  down  once  more  upon  the  table  and 
Estridge  remarked  dryly:  "It  is  ingenious,  at 
all  events.  I  thought  I  had  come  in  contact  with 
most  styles  of  man-killing  instruments  in  my  pro- 
fessional career,  but  this  is  unique." 

"It  is  a  devilish  sort  of  contrivance,  and  I  think 
we  can  dispense  with  any  further  demonstration 
of  it,  if  you  don't  mind  my  saying  so,  Fraser," 
said  Sowerby.  "I  hope  you'll  keep  it  under  your 
eye  until  you  get  it  away  from  the  club." 

"Still,  you  gentlemen  owe  Mr.  Fraser  a  vote 
of  thanks  in  a  way,"  Crane  observed.  "It  was 
this  device  of  his  which  unwittingly  scared  the 
steward  into  his  admission  of  theft." 

"Do  you  think  his  confession  was  complete?" 
Jack  Fraser  asked  significantly.  "Granted  that 
he  was  unnerved  he  is  a  canny  sort  of  rascal.  Was 
that  embezzlement  the  only  robbery  which  he  com- 
mitted, or  attempted  to  commit?" 

Estridge  glanced  in  quick  warning  from  the 
speaker  to  his  brother.  At  the  same  moment  an 
under-steward  knocked  upon  the  door. 

"Excuse  me,  please,  sir."  His  eyes  wavered 
and  then  rested  upon  the  detective.  "Mr.  Dor- 
ranee  is  on  the  wire  for  Mr.  Crane.  I  told  him 


THE  DRIVER  OF  DEATH  213 

that  you  were  engaged,  but  he  wouldn't  take  no 
for  an  answer.  He  says  it  is  most  important. ' ' 

"What  does  that  little "  Sowerby  was  be- 
ginning, but  Crane  had  already  started  for  the 
door. 

"Just  pardon  me,"  he  remarked,  "the  question 
of  Murdock  is  a  matter  for  the  officers  of  your 
club  to  decide,  but  I  cannot  afford  to  leave  a 
possible  stone  unturned  in  the  affair  which  brought 
me  out  here.  The  other  matter,  of  which  three 
of  you  four  know,  is  also  extraneous.  I  am  here 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  finding  the  murderer  of 
Jim  Doyle!" 


CHAPTER  XIV 

TELLTALE   NUMERALS 

lawyer  turned  to  the  under-steward. 
Henry,  upon  what  telephone  did  Mr.  Dor- 
ranee  call  up?" 

"The  main  one,  sir,  on  Murdock's  desk,"  Henry 
replied. 

"Perhaps  Mr.  Crane  would  prefer  to  have  it 
switched  to  one  of  the  extensions  in  the  locker 
room?"  the  lawyer  suggested. 

"Isn't  there  an  extension,  also,  in  the  office 
which  was  occupied  by  Martin  and  the  late — er — 
Grant?"  Crane  had  paused  in  the  doorway. 

"Yes.  Would  you  care  to  use  that?"  asked 
Estridge.  "The  office  has  been  locked  since  last 
night,  but  I  have  the  key  here." 

"Then  will  you  have  Henry  switch  the  call  to 
that  extension,  please,  and  cut  off  all  other 
connections  in  the  club  for  a  few  minutes?"  As 
the  under-steward  disappeared  at  a  nod  from 
the  lawyer,  Crane  added:  "Also,  if  you  have  the 

214 


TELLTALE  NUMERALS  215 

combination  to  the  safe  in  the  secretary's  office 
and  keys  to  the  desk,  or  any  other  receptacles 
which  may  be  locked  in  there,  I  should  like  to 
have  them." 

"I  can  grvse  you  the  combination  to  the  safe,  of 
course,  unless  Doyle  changed  it,  and,  although  the 
coroner  must  have  the  keys  which  were  taken  from 
the  body,  I  have  a  duplicate  set  here/'  Estridge 
remarked,  as  the  two  proceeded  to  the  little  office. 
1  'Do  you  want  to  compare  the  accounts  with  the 
memoranda  in  Murdock's  notebook?" 

1  'Only  one  or  two  items  to  assure  myself  that 
he  wasn't  lying  in  general;  the  rest  of  his  con- 
fession doesn't  interest  me,"  responded  the  de- 
tective. "I  hope  to  find  some  private  notes  of 
Doyle's — notes  intended  for  our  agency  and 
jotted  down  too  late  to  be  transmitted  to  us." 

Murdock  was  still  seated  behind  his  desk  with 
his  head  bowed  in  his  hands,  and  Jewett  loitered 
near,  but  the  steward  did  not  look  up  nor  appear 
to  be  conscious  of  their  presence  in  the  rotunda, 
as  Estridge  unlocked  the  door  of  the  other  little 
office,  and  they  entered,  the  lawyer  switching  on 
the  light. 

"Your  man  was  methodical  and  businesslike," 
the  latter  observed.  "When  I  went  to  O'Hare  I 
told  him  to  send  me  down  some  one  who  could,  at 


216     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

least,  act  the  part  and  keep  books  after  a  fashion. 
But  that  fellow  would  have  deceived  even  me,  had 
I  not  known  who  he  was!  He  might  have  been 
a  private  secretary  or  bookkeeper  all  his  life!'* 

Crane  smiled.  *  *  Doyle  has  acted  in  both  capac- 
ities, at  one  time  or  another,  before  he  came  to 
us,"  he  said.  "That  was  the  reason  why  the  old 
man  picked  him  for  this  case." 

"But  why  the  disguise?  I  am  sure  none  of  us 
would  have  recognized  him  as  he  appeared  when 
it  was  removed." 

"How  sure  are  you?"  Crane  ignored  the  im- 
patient insistence  of  the  telephone  extension  on 
the  desk  to  inquire  quizzically,  "Have  the  clients 
you  have  defended  in  court  all  come  from  the  un- 
derworld, Mr.  Estridge?  One  would  not  think  so, 
judging  from  your  financial  rating." 

The  attorney  looked  startled.  "Just  what  do 
you  mean?" 

"Doyle  has  run  to  earth  more  than  one  crook 
in  the  so-called  smart  set,  and  he  once  helped  to 
convict  of  murder  the  leading  banker  of  a  small 
suburban  community,"  replied  the  detective. 
"Naturally,  before  selecting  a  man  for  your  job, 
0  'Hare  had  you  all  looked  up  as  to  general  stand- 
ing, and  he  discovered  that  you  were  all  practical 
newcomers  here,  Mr.  Estridge.  Doyle  was  the 


TELLTALE  NUMERALS  217 

best  man  for  the  case,  but  was  it  improbable  to 
conjecture  that,  among  all  the  members  of  your 
club  and  their  transient  guests,  there  might  not  be 
one  who  had  come  into  contact  with  him  in  some 
other  investigation  he  has  conducted  among  people 
of  your  class?  The  world  is  not  so  wide,  as  a 
certain  member  of  your  club  remarked  this 
morning. ' ' 

"There's  something  in  that,"  Estridge  con- 
ceded, as  he  turned  to  the  door.  "You'll  find  me 
in  the  billiard  room,  or  dining  with  Sowerby,  if 
you  need  me,  Crane." 

The  detective  reversed  the  key  and  locked  him- 
self into  the  cubby-hole  of  an  office  before  he  took 
the  receiver  of  the  telephone  from  the  hook. 

"Hello!     Crane  speaking." 

"What  detained  you  all  this  time?"  The  peev- 
ish voice  of  Philip  Dorrance,  raised  to  a  high 
pitch  of  mental  strain,  came  to  him  over  the  wire, 
and  it  seemed  to  the  detective's  keen  ear  that 
deeper,  but  unmistakably  feminine,  tones  mingled, 
as  in  a  running  undercurrent,  with  those  of  the 
speaker.  "We  have  something  of  the  most  vital 
importance  to  tell  you,  and  my  wife  would  like  you 
to  come  at  once!" 

"But  your  dinner  engagement?"  Crane  could 
not  resist  the  suggestion. 


218     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

"Hang  the  dinner!  We're  not  going!  "When 
I  reached  home  I  found  that  my  wife  had  made 
a  discovery  which  requires  the  immediate  services 
of  a  detective,  and  you  are  the  nearest.  We  don't 
care  what  it  costs. ' '  There  was  an  odd  hesitation, 
a  seeming  reluctance  in  Dorrance's  tones,  in  spite 
of  his  insistence,  and  now  he  paused  while  the 
contralto  feminine  voice  sounded  again.  Tho 
words  were  indistinguishable,  but  it  was  obvious 
that  he  was  being  coached. 

"If  Mrs.  Dorrance's  discovery  has  no  direct 
bearing  on  the  matter  I  am  investigating  I  really 
must  decline,"  Crane  said  firmly.  "0 'Hare's  pri- 
vate agency  in  New  York,  from  which  I  came,  will 
send  a  man  out  to  you  on  the  first  train  if  you 
will  telephone  there  and  state  the  nature  of  your 
prospective  case.  The  one  I  am  working  on  is  of 
more  importance  to  me  than  any  fee." 

"But  this  is  something  that  cannot  be  discussed 
over  the  phone,  and  my  wife  thinks  that  it  may 
have  a  direct  bearing  on  the  other  affair ! ' '  Dor- 
ranee 's  voice  rose  sharply,  and,  after  a  moment, 
he  added:  "She  says  to  tell  you  she  is  positive 
that  it  will  change  the  whole  course  of  your  inves- 
tigation, and  she  is  sending  the  motor  for  you." 

"Thanks,  but  I  have  two  cars  here  of  my  own," 
responded  the  detective  dryly.  "Please  give  my 


TELLTALE  NUMEEALS  219 

compliments  to  Mrs.  Dorrance  and  tell  her  that  I 
have  one  or  two  points  to  look  into  before  I  leave 
the  club.  I  shall  be  grateful  for  any  assistance 
she  may  be  able  to  render  me  in  this  case,  of 
course,  and  I  will  be  with  you  later. ' ' 

"You  must  come  now,  man,  I  tell  you!"  The 
wire  squeaked  with  Dorrance 's  agitation.  "My 
wife  demands  it !  You  are  wasting  your  time  until 
you  hear  what  she  has  to  tell  you ! ' ' 

"You  will  pardon  me,  but  I  must  be  the  best 
judge  of  that  since  the  investigation  is  in  my 
hands,"  Crane  retorted.  "I  can  be  with  you  in 
an  hour,  not  before. ' ' 

He  rang  off  abruptly,  heedless  of  the  sputtered 
protestations  which  were  choked  into  silence,  and 
looked  about  him.  The  desk  was  not  unlike  that 
of  a  hotel  office  and  identical  with  Murdock's 
except  that  it  ran  the  length  of  the  small  room, 
with  a  space  in  front  of  it  for  the  convenience  of 
members,  and  was  in  a  separate  apartment  instead 
of  opening  directly  into  the  great  hall.  The 
wicket  was  barred,  too,  but  Crane  quickly  unlocked 
it  with  a  key  from  among  those  which,  together 
with  a  slip  of  paper,  the  attorney  had  placed  upon 
the  counter  before  he  passed  within. 

The  safe  was  larger  and  of  a  different  model 
than  that  in  the  steward's  office.  As  Crane  had 


220     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

anticipated  it  would  not  open  when  he  worked 
the  combination  on  the  paper  which  Estridge  had 
left,  and  he  glanced  about  for  some  clew  to  the 
change  in  numbers  which  Doyle  must  have  made. 
Methodical  in  all  things  the  late  operative,  fore- 
seeing the  possibility  of  an  attack  upon  him  and 
the  coming  of  a  successor,  must  have  prepared 
some  hint  for  a  trained  eye  of  the  change  he  had 
effected. 

The  first  object  which  met  his  gaze  was  a  large 
rack  for  mail  with  numbered  pigeonholes  on  the 
wall  above  the  empty  chair.  It  was  identical  with 
the  rack  in  Murdock's  office,  but  Crane  remem- 
bered that  the  latter  had  been  new  and  highly 
varnished,  with  envelopes  protruding  here  and 
there,  where  the  members  had  forgotten  to  inquire 
for  their  mail.  This  one  was  old  and  dusty,  yet,  in 
a  series  of  the  compartments,  small  white  cards 
had  been  placed. 

Carefully  noting  the  number  of  the  pigeonhole 
from  which  he  removed  it,  Crane  picked  out  one 
of  the  cards  and  found  it  to  be,  significantly 
enough,  a  left-over  invitation  to  the  Harvest 
Dance,  during  which  Mrs.  de  Forest's  necklace 
had  disappeared.  That  which  interested  him  more, 
however,  was  an  annotation  down  in  one  corner  in 
hand-printed  characters :  ' '  L-7. ' ' 


TELLTALE  NUMERALS  221 

Taking  a  pencil  from  his  pocket  Crane  jotted 
down  after  the  characters  the  number  2 — that 
of  the  compartment  from  which  he  had  taken  the 
card.  Then  he  collected  the  others,  adding  the 
numbers  in  turn. 

There  were  eight  cards  in  all.  Seating  himself 
in  the  chair,  he  spread  them  out  on  the  counter 
before  him  like  a  new  and  unique  game  of  soli- 
taire. For  a  time  he  studied  them  with  a  puzzled 
frown,  then  his  brow  cleared,  and,  as  he  rear- 
ranged them,  he  whistled  softly. 

He  had  taken  the  card  marked  "L-7"  from  the 
second  pigeonhole;  others  were  labeled  with  the 
letter  "R"  before  the  various  numbers.  These 
ranged  in  scattered  order  from  3  to  14.  Assum- 
ing that  they  actually  represented  the  new  com- 
bination of  the  safe,  Crane  considered  it  as  a  first 
supposition  that  "L"  and  "R"  represented  a 
turn  of  the  knob  to  the  left  or  right  as  indicated ; 
that  the  numbers  of  the  pigeonholes,  from  which 
he  had  taken  them,  was  the  order  in  which  the 
turns  were  to  be  made,  and  those  upon  the  cards 
themselves  must  correspond  to  the  figures  on  the 
dial. 

This  theory  was  further  strengthened  by  the 
discovery  upon  the  last  card — that  marked  "L-6" 
— of  a  word  faintly  penciled  in  the  same  small, 


222     THE  TEIGGEE  OF  CONSCIENCE 

hand-printed  characters;  "open."  Surely  that 
could  only  apply  to  the  knob  in  the  center  of  the 
dial  and  must  mean  that  the  combination  had  been 
completed ! 

Crane  rose  and,  kneeling  upon  the  floor  before 
the  safe,  he  spread  out  his  cards  in  a  row — all  in 
the  order  of  the  numbered  compartments  in  the 
rack  from  which  he  had  removed  them.  Arranged 
thus  they  read:  "R-4;  L-7;  B-9;  L-3;  E-8;  L-ll; 
R-14;  L-6."  Placing  his  ear  close,  he  turned  the 
knob  from  zero  to  the  number  4  on  the  right  of 
the  dial  and  felt  a  glow  of  satisfaction  as  he 
caught  faintly  the  fall  of  a  tumbler  within.  A 
quick  twist  of  his  wrist  brought  the  knob  back  to 
number  7  on  the  left.  In  rotation  through  the 
other  figures,  printed  on  the  cards,  each  stop  pro- 
duced that  scarcely  audible  click  which  assured  him 
that  he  was  indeed  upon  the  right  track. 

When  the  eighth  number  had  been  reached  the 
door  of  the  safe  swung  open,  and  Crane  gathered 
up  his  cards  before  he  looked  within  at  the  orderly 
piles  of  ledgers  and  account  books,  each  marked 
with  the  month  and  year,  with  which  the  receptacle 
was  half  filled. 

Selecting  two  or  three  of  the  latter  at  random, 
the  detective  took  from  his  pocket  the  notebook 
which  Murdock  had  surrendered  to  him.  A  rapid 


TELLTALE  NUMERALS  223 

comparison  of  a  few  of  the  items  listed  by  the 
steward  with  the  figures  in  the  club  accounts 
proved  that  the  latter  had  told  the  truth,  in  part 
at  least,  and  Crane  laid  them  aside,  but  not  before 
ascertaining  one  significant  fact ;  since  the  date  of 
Doyle's  arrival,  a  month  previous,  not  a  single 
peculation  had  been  committed  by  Murdock. 

Turning  once  more  to  the  safe,  Crane  searched 
for  the  private  notes  of  which  he  had  spoken  to 
Estridge.  He  was  certain  that  Doyle  must  have 
taken  notes,  had  anything,  bearing  upon  his  in- 
vestigation, occurred  during  the  last  hours  prior 
to  his  death.  Before  starting  from  the  agency  in 
town,  Crane  had  run  hastily  through  the  brief  re- 
ports sent  in  by  Doyle  from  time  to  time,  and 
it  was  evident  from  them  that  the  operative 
had  obtained  no  definite  lead  regarding  the 
identity  of  the  thief  he  had  come  to  track 
down,  unless  he  had  done  so  after  mailing  the  last 
report  which  had  been  received  on  the  Tuesday 
before. 

In  none  of  them  had  he  mentioned  the  possi- 
bility of  an  attack  upon  himself,  but  that  would 
not  have  been  Doyle's  way;  he  had  undertaken 
to  recover  the  necklace  and  capture  the  thief.  Any 
physical  danger  incurred  in  the  commission  of  a 
case  he  had  always  persisted  in  regarding  as  his 


224     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

own  private  business  and  no  affair  of  the  agency, 
in  spite  of  O 'Hare's  repeated  warnings. 

Crane  ruffled  the  leaves  of  every  ledger  and 
examined  all  the  packets  and  envelopes  in  the 
compartments  which  lined  the  upper  part  of  the 
safe,  but  without  success.  Surely  Doyle  must  have 
had  some  reason  of  his  own  for  changing  the  com- 
bination of  the  safe,  and  if  he  made  any  note  in 
the  case,  which  he  had  not  had  time  to  post,  he 
would  have  secreted  them  in  this  safe.  Had  any 
papers  been  found  on  the  body  Crane  was  con- 
fident that  the  coroner  would  have  mentioned  them 
to  him  that  morning.  Where  could  they  be? 

Even  as  he  racked  his  brains  for  a  solution  to 
the  problem  the  detective  noticed  that  the  ledger 
for  the  past  month,  which  he  had  previously  ex- 
amined and  laid  beside  him  on  the  floor,  did  not 
close  as  evenly  as  the  rest.  Taking  it  up  again, 
he  eagerly  examined  the  binding.  The  inner  lining 
of  the  board  back  had  been  slit  at  the  top,  and, 
as  he  handled  it,  something  rustled  in  the  space 
between. 

Taking  out  his  stout  pocketknife,  Crane  ripped 
the  lining  down  each  side,  disclosing  a  single  sheet 
of  paper  which  had  been  inserted  in  the  aperture 
next  to  the  back.  It  was  covered  with  disjointed 


TELLTALE  NUMERALS  225 

notes  in  Doyle's  writing,  but  it  was  manifest  that 
they  must  have  been  jotted  down  in  haste  and 
under  a  state  of  excitement  which  had  been  un- 
usual to  that  impassive  operative.  Although 
rumpled  the  paper  was  fresh,  and  the  ink,  which 
had  been  used  for  the  added  lines  at  the  bottom 
of  the  page,  was  not  as  deeply  black  as  the  rest. 
Crane  spread  the  document  out  on  the  counter 
and  dropped  into  his  chair.  Here  is  what  he  saw : 

17-L  &  31-G  having  affair,  31  more  serious  than  17.  Look  up 
19-N;  sort  of  Cinderella  and  stuck  on  16-G. 

10-L  &  12-G  engaged?  10  don't  trust  me  &  face  seems 
familiar,  but  can't  place  her  yet;  12  shy  of  me,  too,  must  look 
up  his  record. 

16-G  is  o.  k.  In  love  with  19-N,  all  right  &  no  cap,  but 
straight.  Most  likely  subject  at  first,  so  fooled  around  golf 
green  with  him  &  tried  him  out.  N.  D. 

17-L  afraid  of  me  but  more  afraid  of  28-G.     31-G  leery  of  me. 

Club  accounts  altered,  but  only  small  sums  taken  at  a  time. 
Think  M.  is  the  man — too  anxious  to  help  me  with  books.  Not 
nerve  enough  for  big  job. 

31-G  more  worried.  Sounded  10-L  but  still  can't  get  her 
number. 

Oct.  29:  31-G  desperate  for  money.  Sure  M.  on  that  I'm 
dick,  but  thinks  put  here  to  check  up  books.  19-N  &  16-G 
nervous. 

Oct.  30:  31-G  tried  to  bribe  me  for  all  money  in  club  under 
my  care  and  for  me  to  make  get-away.  Offered  1st  mortgage 
on  property,  but  happen  to  know  it  is  in  name  of  5-L.  19-N 
&  16-G  avoid  each  other  like  plague;  up  to  some  mischief.  Pos- 
sible subjects  to  date:  17-L;  12-G;  31-G;  19-N,  &  M  as  long 
shot.  12-G  watching  me  now  from  hall. 


226     THE  TEIGGEE  OF  CONSCIENCE 

Oct.  31:  12-G  giving  me  the  eye  again,  this  time  through  win- 
dow from  porch,  where  M.  has  hung  Jap.  lantern.  Dance  com- 
ing off  soon. 

What  is  19-N  doing  under  lant 

Here  the  cryptic  scrawl  broke  off  abruptly,  as 
though  the  writer  had  been  interrupted  at  his  task, 
and  for  some  moments  Crane  sat  staring  in  bewil- 
derment at  it.  Clearly  Doyle  had  meant  it  as  a 
correlation  of  facts  and  observations  for  his  own 
study  alone,  yet  there  must  be  some  key  to  the 
enigma  which  this  fresh  set  of  numbers  presented. 

"10-L"  was  evidently  a  woman,  since  the  oper- 
ative had  not  been  able  to  place  her,  and  "12-G" 
was  as  obviously  a  man,  as  Doyle  had  made  a  note 
to  look  up  his  record.  "M"  was  designated  with 
no  number,  and,  if  "L"  could  be  assumed  as  a 
starter  to  indicate  lady  and  * '  G  "  gentlemen,  what 
could  "19-N"  mean? 

The  detective  rose  and  began  pacing  the  small 
inclosure  reflectively.  For  the  time  being  the 
urgent  summons  from  the  Dorrances  was  forgot- 
ten, as  was  the  lesser  importance  of  his  own  lack 
of  food  and  brain  fag  from  loss  of  sleep.  If  Doyle 
had  intended  those  notes  for  himself  alone  why  on 
earth  hadn't  he  written  the  names,  or  at  least 
initials?  He  had  hidden  the  single  page  with 
extreme  care,  yet  he  had  left  an  ingenious  clew 


TELLTALE  NUMERALS  227 

to  the  changed  combination,  and  the  safe  itself 
contained  nothing  else  which  the  house  committee 
might  not  freely  have  examined. 

Where  had  he  got  those  infernal  numbers,  any- 
way? Surely  he  would  not  have  resorted  to  those 
on  the  pigeonholes  of  the  mail  rack  again.  Crane 
turned  and  studied  it  for  a  moment,  but  the 
numbers,  when  applied  to  the  document  in  his 
hands,  made  no  sense,  and  impatiently  he  resorted 
once  more  to  a  perusal  of  the  latter. 

The  only  person  with  whom  Doyle  had  "fooled 
around  the  golf  green"  was  young  Landon;  he, 
therefore,  must  be  "16-G,"  and  "19-N,"  with 
whom  the  latter  was  in  love,  could  be  none  other 
than  little  Alice  Dare,  the  "sort  of  Cinderella." 
"M"  was  undoubtedly  Murdock,  but  what  were 
those  numbers  and  how  had  Doyle  come  to  apply 
them? 

All  at  once  a  light  broke  over  him.  Gathering 
up  the  ledgers,  he  thrust  them  back  in  the  safe  and 
closed  it.  He  had  barely  straightened  when  a 
knock  sounded  upon  the  door. 

Vaulting  the  counter,  Crane  unlocked  it  to  find 
the  under-steward,  Henry,  standing  upon  the 
threshold,  a  laden  tray  in  his  hands,  from  which 
savory  odors  arose.  "Mr.  Estridge's  compli- 
ments, sir,  but  the  dining  room  is  closed,  and  we've 


228     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

kept  this  hot  for  you  as  long  as  we  could.  Mr. 
Dorrance  has  telephoned  again,  but  Mr.  Estridge 
gave  orders  that  you  were  not  to  be  disturbed." 

Realizing  all  at  once  that  he  was  voraciously 
hungry,  Crane  expressed  his  thanks  and  added: 
"Henry,  the  lockers,  in  which  the  members  keep 
their  golf  clubs  and  extra  things,  are  numbered, 
are  they  not?" 

The  man  looked  his  surprise,  but  replied 
promptly  enough.  "Yes,  sir,  both  in  the  ladies' 
and  gentlemen's  locker  rooms." 

"Do  you  know  to  whom  each  belongs!" 

Henry  permitted  himself  to  smile  discreetly.  "I 
ought  to,  sir.  They  have  been  under  my  special 
charge,  as  you  might  say,  for  the  past  two  years. 
I've  a  list  of  the  members  with  the  numbers  of 
their  lockers,  if  you  would  care  to  see  it." 

"I  should,  very  much.  Will  you  bring  it  to 
me  now,  please,  and  then  give  orders  to  have  my 
larger  car — the  one  in  which  I  came  out  from  town 
last  night — at  the  veranda  steps  in  fifteen  min- 
utes? Where  is  Mr.  Estridge?" 

"In  the  billiard  room,  sir.  I  will  get  the  list 
at  once  and  see  that  your  car  is  ready  on 
time." 

Crane  attacked  the  contents  of  the  tray  with 


TELLTALE  NUMERALS  229 

such  vigor  that  he  was  halfway  through  his  meal 
when  the  steward  returned,  and,  as  the  latter 
closed  the  door  behind  him  again,  the  detective 
drew  Doyle 's  notes  from  his  pocket  and  compared 
them  with  the  list  of  lockers. 

The  meaning  leaped  out  at  him  now  in  all 
clarity,  and  he  whistled  softly  as  he  read.  Of  the 
ladies  Mrs.  Sowerby  had  locker  No.  17,  Mrs.  Dor- 
ranee  No.  5,  Mrs.  de  Forest  No.  19,  and  Mrs.  Car- 
ter No.  10.  In  the  men's  room  Bowies'  locker  was 
number  12,  Landon's  16,  Dor  ranee's  32,  and  Sow- 
erby's  28. 

"Ah!"  said  Crane  to  himself.  "It  didn't  take 
Doyle  long  to  discover  that  Mrs.  Sowerby  and  Dor- 
ranee  were  having  a  flirtation,  to  say  nothing  of 
Mrs.  Carter  and  Bowles,  and  that  love  affair  be- 
tween the  two  young  kids.  But  why  was  Bowles 
shy  of  him?" 

Pausing  only  to  copy  on  the  back  of  Doyle's 
notes  the  names  of  those  whose  locker  numbers 
the  late  operative  had  mentioned,  Crane  replaced 
the  sheet  of  paper  in  his  pocket  and  then  finished 
his  dinner  hastily.  He  rang  for  the  steward  to 
remove  the  tray,  returned  the  list  to  him,  and, 
locking  the  door  of  the  little  office,  he  sought  the 
billiard  room.  "Mr.  Estridge,  I  want  to  thank 


230     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

you  most  heartily  for  your  thoughtfulness.  But 
for  you  I  should  have  had  no  dinner,  for  I  had 
quite  forgotten  all  about  food." 

The  attorney,  who  had  been  knocking  the  balls 
aimlessly  about  on  one  of  the  tables  in  solitude, 
glanced  up  and  laid  down  his  cue. 

"You  found  something  to  interest  you?"  he 
asked. 

"Very  much  so!"  replied  Crane.  "Pd  like  a 
little  chat  with  you  some  time  to-morrow,  if  I  may 
have  it,  but  now  I  want  to  return  to  you  the  keys 
you  lent  me  and  give  Murdock's  notebook  into 
your  possession.  You'll  find,  I  think,  that  his 
itemized  list  of  peculations  is  correct  in  the  main, 
but  you  won't  be  able  to  open  the  safe  with  the 
combination  you  handed  me.  I  '11  give  you  the  real 
one  to-morrow." 

"I  thought  so!"  Estridge  said.  "I  have  some 
notes  to  prepare  on  a  case  of  my  own  which  comes 
up  next  week,  and  you  will  find  me  at  my  lodge  all 
day." 

Crane  took  leave  of  him  and  proceeded  to  his 
waiting  car,  but,  as  he  tore  through  the  night 
toward  the  Dorrances',  that  unfinished  final  sen- 
tence scrawled  by  Doyle  rang  in  the  detective's 
ears,  as  though  the  lips  now  cold  in  death  were 


TELLTALE  NUMERALS  231 

whispering  them!     "What  is  19-N  doing  under 

lant " 

What,  indeed,  had  Alice  Dare,  the  pauper  niece 
of  Mrs.  de  Forest,  been  doing  beneath  the  dragon 
lantern,  wherein  had  been  coiled  her  aunt's  stolen 
necklace  ? 


CHAPTER  XV 

MRS.  DORRANCE  ADVANCES  A  THEORY 

EVEN  had  he  not  mentally  noted  its  general 
location  that  afternoon  Crane  could  not  have 
failed  to  find  the  Dorrance's  pretentious  house.  It 
was  illuminated  so  brilliantly  that  it  stood  out  in 
all  the  ugliness  of  its  hybrid  architecture  against 
the  night  sky,  and,  as  Crane  whirled  up  the  drive- 
way, the  entrance  door  was  flung  open,  and  Philip 
Dorrance's  figure,  prancing  excitedly,  was  silhou- 
etted against  the  glare  from  within. 

"Great  Scott,  why  didn't  you  come  sooner, 
Crane?"  He  seized  the  detective's  arm,  before 
the  latter  had  fairly  reached  the  top  step  of  the 
veranda,  and  dragged  him  in.  ' '  My  wife  has  been 
like  a  mad  woman !  You  said  an  hour,  and  here  it 
is  nearly  midnight,  and  some  officious  fool  at  the 
club  refused  to  put  you  on  the  wire  again ! ' ' 

"I  told  you,  Mr.  Dor  ranee,  that  I  had  one  or 
two  points  to  clear  up  there  before  I  left,  although 
I  did  not  anticipate  being  detained  so  long,"  Crane 

232 


MRS.  DORRANCE  ADVANCES  THEORY  233 

responded,  adding:  ''Perhaps  I  have  come  too 
late,  and  Mrs.  Dorrance  has  retired!" 

11  'Retired!'  repeated  the  other  with  a  gurgle. 
"You  don't  know  my  wife  when  she  gets  going, 
but  you  will !  Come  along ;  she 's  in  the  drawing- 
room." 

As  he  followed  his  host  the  detective  amusedly 
noted  the  change  in  his  appearance  from  a  few 
hours  before.  His  tie  was  twisted,  his  collar  and 
shirt  front  wilted,  and  instead  of  his  usual  jaunty 
strut,  he  sidled  cringingly  down  the  hall.  The 
latter,  although  spacious  enough,  was  cluttered 
with  spurious  armor,  chairs,  and  settles  copied 
from  every  known  period,  and  hung  with  portraits, 
the  suspiciously  shiny  varnish  of  which  belied  the 
antiquity  of  the  costumed  characters  they  rep- 
resented. 

The  apartment  which  they  entered  was  large, 
and  had  manifestly  been  "done"  by  some  interior 
decorator  with  an  eye  to  his  client's  purse  solely, 
but  here  the  details  of  his  immediate  surroundings 
escaped  Crane's  observation  for  the  moment. 

Wide  as  the  drawing-room  was  it  seemed  to  be 
filled  with  the  ponderous  bulk  of  the  beetle-browed 
woman  who  in  disheveled  evening  dress  was  pac- 
ing heavily  back  and  forth.  Mentally  the  detective 
flattened  himself  against  the  wall.  The  lady 


234     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

paused  and  demanded  in  a  deep,  shaking  voice: 
"Is  this  Mr.  Crane?  You  have  come  at  last!" 

"I  am  sorry  I  could  not  get  here  before,  Mrs. 
Dorrance. ' '  He  bowed.  "It  is  an  unconscionable 
hour  to  call  at  your  home — even  upon  such  busi- 
ness as  mine." 

"Hour!  "What  do  hours  matter,  or  anything 
else  in  the  world ! ' '  She  flung  her  arms  out  with 
such  violence  that  the  threads  of  one  shoulder 
strap  snapped  ominously.  "There  is  a  thief 
abroad  in  our  community,  Mr.  Crane !  A  robber 
who  would  stop  at  a  crime  of  no  magnitude ! ' ' 

"Now,  Josephine!"  said  her  husband  in  what 
was  meant  to  be  a  soothing  tone,  but  she  turned 
upon  him.  "Hold  your  tongue,  Philip,  or  go  to 
bed!  "Were  they  your  jewels,  I  should  like  to 
know?  I  shall  tell  this  person  just  what  I  think, 
and  nothing  can  stop  me ! ' ' 

In  spite  of  himself  Crane  started  slightly. 
Could  she  have  heard  of  the  theft  of  the  necklace  ? 
If  so  why  should  she  become  so  wrought  up  over 
another  woman's  loss?  But  he  was  vouchsafed 
no  time  for  idle  conjecture. 

"Mr.  Crane,  I  do  not  know  why  your  unfortu- 
nate predecessor  came  to  Broadlawns,  but,  after 
a  certain  conversation,  immediately  following  the 
tragedy  at  the  club  last  night,  I  had  an  inkling. 


MES.  DOEEANCE  ADVANCES  THEOEY  235 

I  was  standing  beside  the  chair  of  an  elderly 
friend  who  has — or  had — a  diamond  necklace  of 
which  she  was  inordinately  vain.  She  has  exhib- 
ited it  on  every  possible  occasion,  until  last  eve- 
ning. Two  days  ago  she  told  me  that  she  con- 
sidered it  too  gorgeous  to  wear  to  so  small  an 
affair  as  the  dance,  but  I  was  convinced  then  that 
she  was  not  telling  the  truth,  particularly  as  she 
made  some  catty  remark  about  my  emeralds!" 
The  lady  paused  and  then  broke  out  in  a  throaty 
wail :  ' '  My  emeralds !  My  emeralds  which  have 
been  in  the  Farr  family  for  generations !  Oh,  this 
will  kill  me!" 

"Then  you  might  just  as  well  die  sitting  down 
as  standing  up,  Josephine,"  Philip  Dorrance  ex- 
claimed in  a  sudden  burst  of  spirit,  born  of  nerves 
strained  to  the  breaking  point.  l '  It  doesn  't  matter 
about  me,  of  course,  but  Mr.  Crane  had  no  sleep 
last  night,  and  he  has  been  on  the  go  all  day.  In 
common  humanity  you  might  offer  him  a  chair." 

"Upstart!"  Mrs.  Dorrance  remarked  in  what 
was  intended  to  be  an  aside,  but  she  turned  once 
more  to  the  detective  with  a  visible  effort  at  self- 
control.  "I  beg  your  pardon.  Please  be  seated; 
my  own  agitation,  which  my  husband  seemingly 
does  not  share,  will  not  permit  me  to  remain  quiet. 
I  was  standing  beside  this  elderly  friend  when 


236     THE  TEIGGEE  OF  CONSCIENCE 

the  sheriff  approached  her,  and,  to  my  astonish- 
ment, I  heard  her  say  that  she  felt  herself  partly 
responsible  for  the  death  of  the  young  man  whom 
we  had  known  as  Mr.  Grant.  Her  contrition  van- 
ished in  elated  astonishment,  however,  when  the 
sheriff  told  her  that  Grant  had  succeeded  in  what 
he  had  undertaken.  Then  he  and  Mr.  Estridge 
carried  her  off  to  talk  privately  with  her,  and,  on 
learning  that  the  supposed  secretary  was  in  reality 
a  detective,  I  commenced  to  put  two  and  two  to- 
gether. 

"This  friend  of  mine  had  worn  her  necklace 
to  the  dance  in  September,  but  she  left  early  in 
great  agitation.  There  was  some  sort  of  a  scene 
which  was  kept  as  quiet  as  possible.  I  had  noticed 
the  necklace  particularly  on  her  arrival — no  one 
could  help  it — it  made  a  display  that  was  almost 
vulgar  on  a  person  of  her  age !  I  remembered  dis- 
tinctly that  I  had  not  seen  it  when  she  departed, 
for  I  assisted  in  putting  her  cloak  about  her  shoul- 
ders. Nothing  but  theft  could  bring  a  detective 
to  our  eminently  select  country  club,  and  no  theft 
could  be  of  much  concern  nor  so  closely  connected 
with  my  friend,  as  to  make  her  feel  partly  re- 
sponsible for  that  detective's  death  but  the  loss 
of  her  greatest  treasure.  Am  I  not  right,  Mr. 
Crane?" 


I 

MBS.  DORRANCE  ADVANCES  THEORY  237 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Dorrance,  I  am  not  here  in 
Broadlawns  on  the  same  mission  as  my  colleague 
was,  but  solely  to  investigate  his  murder,"  Crane 
responded  firmly.  ' '  I  must  decline  to  discuss  any- 
thing else." 

"That  girl  Alice  Dare  would  neither  affirm  nor 
deny  my  supposition  when  I  called  on  her  aunt 
to-day,  and  she  received  me  in  Mrs.  de  Forest's 
place,  but  I  am  confident  that  she  knew !  Perhaps 
it  will  repay  her  when  you  learn  what  I  have  to 
tell  you!"  There  was  morbid  triumph  in  Mrs. 
Dorrance 's  husky  tones.  "If  Mrs.  de  Forest's 
necklace  was  actually  stolen,  and  your  associate 
killed  because  he  had  discovered  the  identity  of 
the  thief,  then  you  would  do  well  to  guard  my 
house,  for  I,  too,  have  been  robbed,  and  we  are 
all  likely  to  be  murdered  in  our  beds!  My  pre- 
cious emeralds  are  gone!" 

"Your  emeralds!"  the  detective  exclaimed. 
"That  is  most  unfortunate,  and  you  have  my  deep- 
est sympathy,  but  I  scarcely  see  how  that  has  any 
bearing  on  the  identity  of  my  colleague's  mur- 
derer. ' ' 

"The  emeralds  are  not  gone,  exactly,  but  Har- 
lier,  the  jeweler,  claims  that  some  time  during  the 
past  month  they  have  been  taken  from  their 
original  settings  and  fakes  substituted  in  their 


238     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

place,"  Dorrance  explained  in  a  hurried  tone. 
"They  were  cleaned  in  his  establishment,  just 
before  the  dance  in  September,  and  nothing  was 
found  to  be  wrong  with  them  then,  but  my  wife 
got  a  notion  a  day  or  so  ago  that  some  of  the 
settings  might  be  loose,  so  I  took  them  into  Har- 
lier's  again.  A  man  from  there  telephoned  out 
and  told  Mrs.  Dorrance  of  the  substitution,  while 
I  was  returning  from  the  club  late  this  afternoon, 
and  she  is  convinced  that  it  has  something  to  do 
with  the  theft  of  Mrs.  de  Forest's  necklace  and 
the  killing  of  your  man  last  night.  Nothing  would 
do  but  I  must  send  for  you  at  once.  You  see?" 

His  voice  was  almost  apologetic,  but  Crane 
shook  his  head.  "I  am  afraid  that  I  don't,"  he 
disclaimed.  "Mrs.  Dorrance  has  given  me  no 
valid  reason  for  her  suspicion  that  the  necklace 
you  speak  of  was  stolen,  or  that  my  colleague  was 
sent  here  to  find  it.  I  cannot  discuss  his  case,  as 
I  said  before,  but,  with  my  own  knowledge  of  it, 
I  can  see  no  connection  between  the  identity  of 
his  slayer  and  that  of  the  person  who  effected  the 
substitution  of  fakes  for  your  emeralds." 

"You  cannot!"  Mrs.  Dorrance,  who  for  the  mo- 
ment had  subsided,  spent  with  her  emotions, 
started  up  indignantly.  "What  if  I  should  tell 
you  I  happen  to  know  the  necklace  was  stolen, 


MRS.  DOKRANCE  ADVANCES  THEOEY  239 

know  that  man  was  sent  here  to  find  it,  and  that 
he  was  shot  after  he  did  find  it?  His  murderer 
is  still  at  large,  and  another  robbery  of  greater 
magnitude  has  been  discovered,  and  you  see  no 
connection!  To  say  the  least  I  am  disappointed, 
Mr.  Crane,  for  I  had  heard  some  really  intelligent 
things  of  you!" 

"If  your  knowledge  were  authentic,  Mrs.  Dor- 
ranee — which  I  do  not  admit — I  should  have  to 
know  how  you  came  by  it  before  changing  my 
plans  and  theories."  Crane's  tone  was  a  study 
in  skepticism  as  he  warily  led  her  on.  "Woman's 
intuition  may  be  all  very  well  in  its  way,  but  you 
have  given  me  only  one  fact:  that  fakes  have 
been  substituted  for  your  emeralds.  In  the  in- 
vestigation of  a  murder  we  must  have  cold  facts 
to  go  upon." 

"  'Woman's  intuition'  indeed!"  Something 
very  like  a  snort  was  emitted  by  his  affronted 
hostess.  "I  have  heard  that  you  detectives  de- 
pend more  than  a  little  for  valuable  clews  on  back- 
stairs gossip — the  testimony  of  servants.  I  pay 
mine  better  than  any  one  in  the  neighborhood, 
though  Heaven  knows  I  have  nothing  to  conceal, 
and  I  am  rewarded  by  the  only  loyalty  which 
seems  to  exist  nowadays.  I  could  tell  you  things ! ' ' 

"Josephine!"  exclaimed  her  husband.     "Re- 


240     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

member  that  you  have  had  to  pay  costs  already 
in  two  suits  for  libel  and  one  for  malicious 
mischief ! ' ' 

"That  will  do."  Mrs.  Dorrance's  tone  was 
ominously  quiet.  "You  will  remember,  Philip, 
that  it  was  I  and  not  you  who  paid  the  costs. 
The  hussies  were  guilty  in  each  case.  I  am  con- 
ducting this  interview.  Mr.  Crane,  you  must 
know  from  your  professional  experience  that 
servants  will  talk,  and  nothing — positively  noth- 
ing— can  be  kept  from  them.  Concerning  Mrs.  de 
Forest's  necklace,  her  maid  and  mine  are  inti- 
mate friends,  but  mine  receives  higher  wages. 
Need  I  be  more  explicit?" 

"I  think  I  understand,"  Crane  said.  "But, 
after  all,  a  maid's  suspicions  and  predilection  for 
sensational  gossip,  of  which  you  have  just  spoken 


"I  am  speaking  now  of  facts,  not  suspicions, 
and  both  maids  are  reliable  witnesses.  I  do  not 
care  to  be  brought  into  this  matter  any  further 
than  is  necessary  to  recover  my  own  jewels,  nat- 
urally, for  what  would  be  added  glory  for  you  in 
your  profession  would  ostracize  me  in  my  set  out 
here,  and  what  I  say  to  you  now  must  be  strictly 
confidential.  I  have  locked  the  doors  leading  to 


MRS.  DORRANCE  ADVANCES  THEORY  241 

the  servants '  wing,  and  my  husband  doesn't  count, 
for  he  would  not  dare  to  repeat  anything.  Mrs. 
de  Forest's  necklace  is  safe  in  the  hands  of  the 
sheriff,  and,  knowing  that,  she  would  not  be  in- 
clined to  tell  you  whom  she  suspected  of  stealing 
it,  nor  help  you  in  your  search  for  Doyle's  mur- 
derer, lest  it  bring  upon  her  own  household  the 
scandal  and  disgrace  she  has  done  everything  to 
avoid. ' ' 

1  ( Oh,  Heavens ! ' '  exclaimed  the  wretched  Philip, 
but  his  ejaculation  was  unheeded. 

"Love,"  Mrs.  Dorrance  continued — her  austere 
tone  conveyed  no  impression  of  that  tender  pas- 
sion— "will  sometimes  cause  impulsive  young 
people  to  do  desperate,  even  criminal,  things.  Mrs. 
de  Forest  treats  that  orphan  niece  of  hers  like  an 
upper  servant  and  has  provided  her  with  smart 
clothes  and  the  outward  advantage  of  wealth,  only 
that  the  girl  might  the  more  quickly  make  a  rich 
marriage  and  be  off  her  hands.  I  have  this  from 
her  own  lips,  Mr.  Crane.  The  girl  has  rewarded 
her  by  falling  in  love  with  a  penniless  bank  clerk ; 
all  Broadlawns  can  substantiate  that.  Mrs.  de 
Forest  forbade  the  match,  and  the  young  couple 
were  desperate.  On  reaching  home  from  the 
Harvest  dance  Mrs.  de  Forest  accused  her  niece 


242     THE  TEIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

— in  the  hearing  of  another  person,  although  she 
did  not  know  it — of  stealing  her  necklace.  Alice 
denied  it,  of  course,  and  threatened  to  go  away 
and  earn  her  own  living  and  be  free. 

"I  did  not  learn  this  until  a  week  later,  and,  in 
the  meantime,  I  foolishly  decked  the  girl  out  in  my 
emeralds  for  a  masquerade  at  a  week-end  house 
party.  I  make  no  direct  accusation,  but  I  have 
heard  that  clever  work  can  be  done  by  expert 
jewel  fakers  in  three  days,  and  this  house  party 
in  the  Berkshires  lasted  from  Friday  until  Mon- 
day. When  the  emeralds  were  returned  to  me  I 
put  them  away  without  a  close  inspection,  and  it 
was  only  a  few  days  ago  that  I  discovered  that 
the  settings  of  the  brooch  and  pendant  were  loose. 
Lately  Alice  Dare  and  her  lover  have  given  every 
evidence  of  a  nervousness  that  amounted  to  sheer 
fright;  a  dozen  people  have  remarked  upon  it  at 
the  club.  Last  night,  after  that  murder,  when 
Mrs.  de  Forest  and  her  niece  returned  to  their 
home  there  was  another  scene  between  them.  Mrs. 
de  Forest  this  time  accused  her  niece  of  putting 
the  necklace  back  where — where  Doyle  must  have 
found  it.  I  saw  the  girl  in  the  early  part  of  the 
evening  dawdling  about  the  very  window  through 
which  he  was  afterward  shot.  I  hope  that  I  am 
unprejudiced  and  just,  but  these  are  facts  which 


MRS.  DORRANCE  ADVANCES  THEORY  243 

I  have  given  you.  Do  they  interest  you  sufficiently 
to  listen  to  my  theory  of  the  murder?" 

Crane  had  attended  to  every  word,  and  again 
Doyle's  interrupted  question  leaped  to  his  mind, 
although  instinctively  he  shrank  from  the  possi- 
bility which  this  dominant  woman  had  laid  bare. 
Neither  face  nor  voice  betrayed  him  as  he  replied 
calmly:  "Your  facts  might  interest  me,  Mrs. 
Dorrance,  if  it  were  not  for  a  seeming  inconsis- 
tency. Why  is  the  necklace,  which  you  say  is  now 
in  the  hands  of  the  sheriff,  not  a  fake,  as  well  as 
your  emeralds?" 

"If  you  have  had  any  experience  with  gem 
thefts  you  should  know  that  diamonds  are  the 
most  difficult  jewels  in  the  world  to  imitate  with 
any  hope  of  deceiving  even  the  most  casual  glance, 
while  it  would  take  an  expert  to  detect  the  differ- 
ence between  real  emeralds  and  some  of  the  mar- 
velous manufactured  ones  which  are  on  the  market 
now,"  Mrs.  Dorrance  remarked  coldly.  "More- 
over— but  that  is  a  part  of  my  theory  which  you 
evidently  do  not  consider  worth  hearing." 

"Most  assuredly  I  do,  Mrs.  Dorrance,  but  first 
let  me  warn  you  that  you  have  not  a  shred  of  even 
circumstantial  evidence  to  support  your  idea  as 
to  when  and  by  whom  your  emeralds  were  substi- 
tuted. With  that  theory  fixed  in  your  mind  you 


244     THE  TSIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

may  have  overlooked  other  possibilities,  and,  as 
you  say,  you  desire  above  all  things  to  be  just, 
especially  in  so  serious  a  matter." 

Mrs.  Dorrance's  jaw  set,  and  for  an  instant  her 
dark  eyes  flashed.  Then  she  controlled  herself  and 
responded:  " Quite  so!  May  I  ask  what  other 
possibilities  you  suggest,  Mr.  Crane?" 

"  Where  do  you  keep  your  emeralds  when  you 
are  not  wearing  them?  At  a  bank  here  or  in 
town!" 

"Neither.  I  have  a  fireproof  safe,  built  into 
my  dressing-room  wall,  and  no  one  on  this  earth 
knows  the  combination  except  myself. ' ' 

"Josephine!"  that  gentleman  exclaimed  in 
shocked  reproach.  "I  trust  you  don't  suggest 


"I  suggest  nothing!"  she  said.  "Whenever  I 
go  to  that  safe  I  lock  my  door  and  hang  a  dark 
cloth  over  the  knob  so  that  my  maid  cannot  spy 
upon  me  through  the  keyhole,  and  that  woman 
knows  more  than  you  ever  will,  Philip !  If  I  told 
you  one  half  of  what  she  has  repeated  to  me  con- 
cerning the  actions  of  certain  empty-headed  dolls 
and  dyed-haired  vixens  in  this  neighborhood  you 
would  realize  that  nothing  can  be  kept  from  her — 
nothing  but  the  combination  of  my  safe!" 

"On  returning  from  the  Harvest  dance  you 


MES.  DORRANCE  ADVANCES  THEORY  245 

put  your  jewels  immediately  away,  Mrs.  Dor- 
ranee  T ' ' 

* '  Yes.  I  did  not  open  the  safe  until  a  few  days 
later  when  I  took  out  the  emeralds  to  lend  to  Miss 
Dare." 

"When  she  returned  them " 

"I  placed  them  in  the  safe  so  quickly  that,  as  I 
told  you,  I  scarcely  looked  at  them,  beyond  a 
glance  to  see  that  all  the  pieces  were  there.  The 
safe  remained  closed  until  I  took  out  the  emeralds, 
a  few  days  ago,  to  see  that  all  the  settings  were 
secure  before  wearing  them  to  the  dance.  Har- 
lier's  are  always  very  prompt  in  their  work  for 
me,  and  I  thought  it  odd  when,  on  Thursday,  they 
told  my  husband  that  the  repairs  could  not  be 
finished  in  time.  The  official  explained  this  after- 
noon that  they  had  not  wished  to  alarm  me  until 
they  had  examined  every  stone  to  determine  if  all 
or  only  a  part  of  the  set  had  been  exchanged  for 
imitations.  Not  one  of  them  is  left,  Mr.  Crane! 
All — all  of  them  are  gone!" 

Philip,  who  at  the  reference  to  "dolls"  and 
"vixens"  had  subsided,  now  interposed. 

"I  thought  myself  that  the  chap's  manner  at 
Harlier's  was  odd  when  I  took  the  emeralds  in 
to  him  on  Thursday,"  he  observed.  "As  soon  as 
the  inquest  is  over  I  mean  to  have  a  thorough  in- 


246     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

vestigation  made  of  the  substitution,  Josephine. 
You  can  safely  leave  everything  in  my  hands." 

"What!  Trust  you  to  find  my  emeralds  for 
me?"  his  wife  demanded  in  contemptuous  wrath. 
1  'I  want  the  most  expert  advice  in  the  country, 
both  detective  and  legal,  and  I  intend  to  have  it! 
Moreover,  as  soon  as  this  stupid  inquest  is  fin- 
ished, I  shall  take  the  first  train  to  town  and 
interview  the  head  of  Harlier's  himself!  I  am 
convinced,  however,  that  my  theory  will  prove  to 
be  the  truth." 

"Will  you  tell  me  that  theory  now,  Mrs.  Dor- 
ranee?"  asked  Crane.  "I  know  part  of  it,  of 
course.  You  think  that,  some  time  during  the 
Harvest  dance,  Miss  Dare  managed  to  steal  her 
aunt's  necklace." 

"Yes;  I  believe  that  she  was  afraid  to  take  it 
home,  or  confess  to  her  lover  then  what  she  had 
done,  but  secreted  it  about  the  club  somewhere.  A 
girl  values  the  good  opinion  of  the  man  she  cares 
for,  and  I  think  she  meant  to  sell  the  necklace  at 
the  first  opportunity  to  get  to  town,  persuade 
Gerald  Landon  to  elope  with  her,  and  then  produce 
the  money  with  some  trumpery,  romantic  story  of 
a  legacy  which  she  had  concealed  from  her  aunt. 
He  is  sufficiently  young  and  in  love  to  have  swal- 
lowed it.  However,  her  aunt's  unexpected  accu- 


MBS.  DORRANCE  ADVANCES  THEORY  247 

sation  must  have  thrown  her  into  a  panic,  and 
she  did  confess  to  him  what  she  had  done."  Mrs. 
Dorrance  paused  and  added:  "I  do  not  pretend 
to  say  whether  it  was  fear  or  honesty  which  im- 
pelled him,  but  it  is  my  opinion  that  he  persuaded 
her  to  return  them  at  the  earliest  opportunity,  and 
they  decided  on  the  dance  last  night  as  the  most 
favorable  time  for  placing  the  necklace  where  it 
would  be  found. 

"That  girl  was  crazy  to  marry  him,  though, 
and  they  had  to  have  money,  so,  when  I  foolishly 
offered  to  let  her  have  my  jewels  for  the  week- 
end, she  saw  her  chance  for  a  second  coup.  This 
time  she  would  not  fail,  for  the  substitution  might 
not  be  discovered  for  months,  and  much  could 
happen  in  the  meantime.  So  much  for  my  emer- 
alds, but  to  get  back  to  the  necklace.  Neither  of 
those  two  young  conspirators  had  counted  on  the 
possibility  of  a  private  detective  being  installed  at 
the  club,  but,  as  Hallowe'en  drew  near,  I  think 
they  suspected  the  real  identity  and  purpose  of 
the  new  secretary — that  would  account  for  their 
increasing  nervousness  and  fright — yet  they  had 
no  other  course  but  their  original  plan  to  follow. 

"It  is  my  belief  that  the  girl  concealed  that 
necklace  in  the  lantern.  Doyle  saw  her  do  it  and 
stationed  himself  there.  Both  she  and  her  lover 


248     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

knew  that  her  guilt  would  be  exposed.  But,  Mr. 
Crane,  it  is  also  my  firm  conviction  that  Gerald 
Landon  came  to  the  dance  prepared  for  that  very 
contingency  and  determined  to  go  to  any  length 
to  protect  the  girl  who  had  stolen  through  love  of 
him.  I  am  not  romantically  inclined,  but  this  is 
sheer  logic.  You  will  remember  that  he  stood 
alone  in  the  door  of  the  conservatory.  That  win- 
dow, where  the  lantern  hung  and  Doyle  stood,  was 
within  his  unobstructed  view  and  range.  When  he 
saw  that  Doyle  knew  and  meant  to  remain  on 
guard  until  he  could  recover  the  necklace  and 
denounce  Alice — well,  it  is  my  theory  that  Gerald 
Landon  chose  that  moment  of  darkness  to  seal 
the  detective's  lips  forever,  even  if  he  went  to 
the  chair  for  it!  Have  you  a  better  theory,  Mr. 
Crane!" 

There  was  a  horrified  gasp  from  Philip,  but 
Crane's  face  remained  impassive  as  he  replied: 
"None  that  I  am  prepared  to  offer,  Mrs.  Dor- 
ranee,  but  I  must  earnestly  request  that  you  will 
not  repeat  this  theory  of  yours  to  any  one  else 
until  after  the  inquest.  You  will  have  cause  to 
amend  it,  I  think,  before  then." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A  PIECE  OF   RIBBON 

WHEN  Crane  awakened  in  his  room  at  the 
club  on  the  following  morning  the  church 
bells  were  tolling,  and  bright  sunlight  streamed 
in  at  the  window.  For  a  moment  the  haze  of  sleep 
still  encompassed  him,  then  consciousness  returned 
in  a  full  tide,  bearing  upon  its  crest  the  problem 
which  confronted  him. 

Mrs.  Dorrance's  emeralds  were  a  side  issue 
and  did  not  concern  him,  but,  in  spite  of  his  repu- 
diation of  her  theory  as  a  whole,  it  had  brought 
certain  questions  to  his  mind  which  must  be 
answered,  even  while  it  had  made  clear  to  him  sev- 
eral points  upon  which  he  had  formerly  been  in 
the  dark. 

It  might  have  been  by  sheer  accident  that  Alice 
Dare  had  lingered  under  the  dragon  lantern  early 
on  the  evening  of  the  dance,  yet  her  aunt 's  accusa- 
tions, carried  though  they  were  through  the  me- 
dium of  gossiping  maids  and  an  envious  social 

249 


250     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

rival,  were  significant.  He  had  Doyle's  notes  to 
confirm  the  report  of  the  attachment  which  existed 
between  the  young  girl  and  the  penniless  bank 
employee,  but  Doyle  had  also  observed  the  increas- 
ing nervousness  of  the  couple  and  their  self- 
conscious  avoidance  of  each  other.  He  had  stated 
his  opinion  that  they  were  ' '  up  to  some  mischief. ' ' 
If  they  were  guiltless  of  any  wrong  what  had  Alice 
Dare  and  Gerald  Landon  to  fear?  They  were 
both  young  enough  to  wait,  and,  if  the  girl  had 
any  stamina,  the  mere  disapproval  of  her  aunt 
need  not  have  caused  her  such  agitation. 

Mrs.  de  Forest  had  taken  locker  No.  19  in  the 
ladies*  dressing  room  for  Alice's  use,  and  the  girl 
had  been  designated  "N" — evidently  niece — in 
Doyle's  notes.  For  some  reason  he  had  kept  a 
wary  eye  upon  her  from  the  first  and  had  even 
included  her  in  his  list  of  possible  ''subjects"  or 
suspects.  At  the  same  time  he  pronounced  Landon 
straight  and  declared  that  there  was  "N.  D."  or 
nothing  doing,  in  an  attempt  to  connect  him  with 
the  theft  of  the  necklace.  Had  the  dead  operative 
considered  only  the  girl's  motive  and  opportunity, 
or  had  he  other  cause  to  suspect  her? 

Another  phase  of  the  enigma  recurred  to 
Crane's  mind.  Why  had  young  Mrs.  Sowerby 
stated  that  she  was  in  the  conservatory  when  the 


A  PIECE  OF  BIBBON  251 

shot  was  fired  if,  in  reality,  she  had  been  upstairs 
in  one  of  the  resting  rooms,  which  must  have  been 
passed  by  the  person  who  threw  the  pistol  out  of 
the  window? 

Impatiently  thrusting  his  futile  cogitations  from 
his  mind,  Crane  sprang  out  of  bed  and  rang  the 
bell.  Henry  appeared,  and  a  cold  shower  and 
hearty  breakfast  made  the  detective  ready  for  his 
day's  work.  After  ascertaining  that  Murdock 
was  still  at  liberty  about  the  club,  but  under  the 
watchful  eye  of  Jewett,  he  ordered  the  little  flivver 
and  started  again  along  the  road  bordered  by  the 
glen,  keeping  his  engine  as  silent  as  possible  and 
sitting  back  under  the  screening  top  of  the  car. 

It  was  just  past  eleven  o'clock,  and  Crane  an- 
ticipated that  most  of  the  country  club  colony 
would  be  at  church.  Even  those  members  who 
did  not  usually  put  themselves  to  such  unwonted 
exertion  would  want  to  catch  any  morsel  of  sen- 
sational gossip  which  might  be  let  fall  later.  He 
deduced  that  others  would  count  upon  this  fact, 
also,  and  would  choose  the  glen,  at  this  hour,  as 
a  safe  meeting  place.  If  he  had  hoped  to  come 
upon  the  same  couple  as  before  he  was  doomed 
to  disappointment. 

Leaving  the  car,  he  climbed  the  fence  and 
strolled  down  the  path  beside  the  little  stream,  but 


252     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

no  sound  of  voices  or  footsteps  rewarded  him.  He 
was  about  to  turn  back  when  he  heard  his  name 
called  in  ringing,  masculine  tones  and  glanced 
across  the  brook  to  behold  Gerald  Landon  and 
Alice  Dare  seated  on  a  fallen  log,  a  suspiciously 
decorous  space  between  them. 

" "Won't  you  come  over,  Mr.  Crane?  There 
isn't  any  bridge,  but  you'll  find  a  row  of  stepping- 
stones  a  few  paces  to  your  right." 

"Thanks."  Crane  laughed.  "Good  morning, 
Miss  Dare.  May  I  join  you?  Most  of  the  people 
I  wanted  to  interview  are  at  church,  but  I  think 
you  have  found  the  best  place  of  worship  after 
all." 

She  nodded  smilingly,  but  her  flush  deepened, 
as  he  sprang  lightly  across  the  tilting  stones  and 
seated  himself  upon  a  convenient  stump. 

"I — I  have  a  headache,  Mr.  Crane.  At  least 
that  is  what  I  told  my  aunt,  or  I  should  have  had 
to  go  to  church,  too!"  she  said  with  shy  audacity. 
"You  see  I  am  putting  myself  in  your  hands  so 
that  you  will  not  give  me  away,  but  it  was  such 
a  beautiful  morning  I  could  not  resist  a  walk,  and 
then — then  I  met  Mr.  Landon." 

"I  won't  give  you  away,  Miss  Dare,  if  you  will 
allow  me  to  ask  you  a  question  or  two,"  he  re- 
sponded gravely.  Then,  as  her  eyes  widened,  and 


A  PIECE  OF  RIBBON  253 

she  instinctively  shrank  away  from  him,  he  added : 
"Please  don't  be  annoyed;  I  am  sure  that  you 
will  be  only  too  glad  to  answer  when  you  know 
what  I  wish  to  ask,  even  in  the  presence  of  Mr. 
Landon. ' ' 

The  challenge  was  unmistakable,  and,  mere  girl 
though  she  was,  she  recognized  it  and  lifted  her 
little  chin  spiritedly.  "You  can  ask  me  nothing 
concerning  myself,  Mr.  Crane,  that  I  am  not  per- 
fectly willing  to  answer  in  the  presence  of  Mr. 
Landon,  or  anybody  else,  but,  if  it  is  about  that 
horrible  murder,  I  have  already  told  you  what 
little  I  know,  and  I  had  rather  not  discuss  it 
further." 

"It  isn't,"  he  assured  her.  "Miss  Dare,  you 
attended  a  house  party,  somewhere  in  the  Berk- 
shires,  about  a  week  after  the  Harvest  dance, 
didn't  you?" 

"Why,  yes,  at  the  Jordan  Nicolls',"  she  replied, 
surprise  raising  her  soft  tones  a  note  or  two. 

' '  They  gave  a  masquerade,  did  they  not  ?  May 
I  ask  what  sort  of  costume  you  wore  ? ' ' 

"A  simple  black  domino.  My  aunt  wished  me 
to  wear  an  Egyptian  costume,  but,  at  the  last 
moment,  I  found  that  it  was  not  suitable."  The 
surprise  was  gone  from  the  girl's  tones  now,  and 
she  hesitated  as  though  embarrassed. 


254     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

"Did  you  wear  any  jewels,  Miss  Dare?*'  Crane 
persisted. 

To  his  astonishment  she  laughed  suddenly,  a 
lilting  little  ripple  of  sheer  amusement. 

"Oh,  you  mean  those  emeralds  of  Mrs.  Dor- 
ranee  's  ?  Indeed,  no !  Of  course  I  could  not  offend 
her  by  refusing  her  offer,  especially  as  my  aunt 
insisted  that  I  accept,  but  I  should  have  looked 
like  a  stained-glass  window  in  them.  I  did  not 
even  take  them  with  me ! ' ' 

"Will  you  tell  me,  then,  where  you  left  them 
during  your  absence!" 

Gerald  Landon  did  not  permit  Alice  to  answer 
the  detective. 

"Look  here,  Mr.  Crane,  you'll  have  to  pardon 
me  for  butting  in,  but  I'd  like  to  know  what  all 
this  is  leading  to!  That  Dorrance  woman  didn't 
have  her  emeralds  on  at  the  dance  Friday  night; 
is  she  trying  to  claim  that  something  happened  to 
them  while  they  were  supposed  to  be  in  Alice's 
hands?" 

"Gerald!"  the  girl  exclaimed  softly,  but  he 
retorted:  "Oh,  what  is  the  use  of  pretending? 
I'm  getting  sick  of  it,  dear,  and,  besides,  after  a 
certain  conversation  I  had  with  Mr.  Crane  in  the 
locker  room  at  the  club,  yesterday,  I  know  he 
doesn't  ask  a  pointless  question."  He  turned  to 


A  PIECE  OF  KIBBON  255 

the  detective.  "Those  emeralds  are  worth  a  for- 
tune, and  it  would  not  have  been  safe  for  Alice  to 
travel  alone  with  them,  even  if  she  had  intended 
to  wear  them.  She  consulted  me,  and  I  suggested 
that  we  ask  Mr.  Estridge  to  take  charge  of  them; 
he  thought  it  was  a  good  joke  and  did  so.  That's 
all  there  is  to  it." 

A  vagrant  puff  of  wind  snatched  at  Miss  Dare's 
tam-o'-shanter,  and,  as  she  raised  both  hands  to 
her  head  to  save  it,  her  rough  tweed  sports  coat 
fell  open  at  the  throat,  exposing  her  slender  neck 
and  the  silk  blouse  which  she  wore.  Shivering  a 
little,  she  drew  the  coat  together  before  she  took 
up  her  part  of  the  explanation. 

"You  see,  Mr.  Crane,  Mrs.  Dorrance  brought 
the  emeralds  to  me  in  a  traveling  jewel  case,  just 
before  I  started  for  the  Jordan  Nicolls,'  and  I 
had  to  pretend  to  take  them  along,  for  my  aunt 
never  left  me  until  I  got  into  the  motor  to  drive 
to  the  station.  I  made  an  excuse  to  stop  at  Mr. 
Estridge 's  lodge  for  a  minute.  He  was  waiting 
there  for  me  by  appointment,  and  Gerald,  too,  and 
we  all  looked  at  the  jewels  to  make  sure  that 
they  were  all  right.  Then  Mr.  Estridge  put  them 
away  in  his  own  safe.  When  I  returned  from 
the  Jordan  Nicolls'  on  Monday  I  purposely  took 
an  earlier  train  than  I  was  supposed  to,  and  Mr. 


256     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

London  met  me  at  the  station  with  the  Erasers' 
car  and  drove  me  to  Mr.  Estridge  's. ' '  She  paused 
and  added  in  some  confusion.  "I — I  suppose  this 
all  sounds  very  deceitful  to  you,  but  I  don't  think 
you  quite  understand  the  situation." 

"Perhaps  I  understand  it  better  than  you 
think. ' '  Crane  looked  straight  into  her  eyes,  and 
they  fell  before  his.  "  Please  go  on.  Mr.  Est- 
ridge was  waiting  for  you  and  gave  you  the  jewel 
case  to  slip  into  your  traveling  bag!" 

She  nodded. 

"He  insisted  upon  us  both  looking  into  it  first, 
however,  to  make  sure  that  the  stones  were  just 
as  we  three  had  last  seen  them.  He  himself  drove 
me  first  to  Mrs.  Dorrance's  house  to  return  the 
emeralds  and  then  home,  where  he  explained  to 
my  aunt  that  it  was  he  who  had  picked  me  up 
at  the  station.  He  is  a  dear,"  she  added  impul- 
sively. "You  see,  Mr.  Crane,  my  aunt  doesn't 
exactly  approve  of — of " 

* '  Me ! ' '  interjected  Gerald.  "  I  'm  forbidden  the 
house,  and  we  have  had  to  meet  like  this !  I  don 't 
think  there  is  anything  particularly  objectionable 
about  me  except  that  I  haven't  got  scads  of  money, 
but  that  is  enough  to  condemn  me  in  the  old 
lady's  eyes.  There  was  some  fellow  up  at  the  Jor- 
dan Nicolls '  whom  Mrs.  de  Forest  did  approve  of, 


A  PIECE  OF  RIBBON  257 

though,  and  that  was  why  she  was  willing  to  have 
Alice  accept  Mrs.  Dorrance's  offer  of  the  emeralds 
— wanted  her  to  make  a  holy  show  of  herself, 
rigged  up  like  Cleopatra!" 

''Gerald!"  the  girl  exclaimed  again  softly. 
"It  was  kind  of  Mrs.  Dorrance  to  offer  them." 

"Kind  nothing!"  retorted  the  young  man. 
"Don't  I  know  the  bunch  out  here!  She  only 
did  it  to  try  to  get  in  with  those  Nicolls  people 
through  your  aunt ! ' ' 

"What  a  he-gossip  you  are  growing  to  be, 
Gerald!"  Alice  laughed,  and  then  her  face  grew 
grave,  as  she  asked:  "But  why  did  you  ask  about 
the  emeralds,  Mr.  Crane?" 

"I  didn't,  if  you  remember,"  he  protested. 
"You  brought  them  into  the  conversation,  but  I 
did  mean  to  ask  about  them.  I  heard  Mrs.  Dor- 
rance say  that  the  settings  of  one  or  two  of  the 
pieces  had  become  loosened,  so  it  is  as  well, 
perhaps,  that  you  did  not  wear  them,  but  left 
them  in  the  custody  of  Mr.  Estridge  during 
your  absence.  Now  may  I  ask  when  either 
of  you  first  became  aware  of  the  identity  of 
Doyle?" 

"I  didn't  until  his  death,  as  I  told  you  yester- 
day," Gerald  replied.  "I  liked  him,  but  Alice 
said  that  there  was  something  odd  about  him  that 


258     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

made  her  uncomfortable  from  the  very  day  he  ar- 
rived. ' ' 

"Not  quite  that!"  the  girl  denied  nervously. 

"Well,  you  said,  only  Thursday,  that  he  asked 
you  funny,  unexpected  questions  and  stared  after 
you,  and  that  you  wished  you  could  see  his  eyes 
without  that  shade  or " 

"Gerald!"  The  cry  broke  involuntarily  from 
the  girl's  lips.  "I  told  you,  too,  that  I  did  not  dis- 
like him — that  his  questions  were  never  personal. 
Several  other  people  thought  there  was  something 
queer  about  him,  also.  You  know  I  was  only 
afraid  that  he  might  tell  Mr.  Sowerby  how  much 
we  were  together  about  the  club,  and  Mr.  Sow- 
erby might  ask  you  if  we  were  secretly  engaged. 
You  would  be  just  foolish  enough  to  admit  it,  and 
then  you  would  lose  your  position!  He  doesn't 
approve  of  his  employees  marrying  under  fifty, 
Mr.  Crane!" 

She  had  turned  with  a  forced  laugh  to  the  de- 
tective, but  he  did  not  echo  it.  Instead  he  asked 
gravely:  "But  did  you  not  know  what  his  real 
object  was  in  coming  here?  Were  you  not  told?" 

The  girl's  delicate  face  turned  white  to  the  lips, 
but  she  met  his  eyes  fearlessly  this  time.  "I  was 
not,  Mr.  Crane.  Why  should  I  have  been?" 

"Because  you  knew  what  had  occurred  at  the 


A  PIECE  OF  RIBBON  259 

Harvest  dance,"  he  replied  slowly.  "Do  you  re- 
call a  certain  conversation  between  your  aunt  and 
yourself  on  reaching  home  that  night?  You  were 
accused " 

"What?"  Gerald  was  ready  to  explode,  but 
neither  of  them  heeded  him. 

"How  could  you  know  that?"  Alice  asked. 

"How  do  I  know  that  you  were  accused  the 
other  night,  after  Doyle  wa^  shot,  of  having  put 
what  had  been  stolen  back  where  it  was  found? 
Servants  gossip  with  their  friends  in  other  houses, 
and  your  aunt  would  do  well  to  be  sure  that  her 
maid  is  not  within  hearing." 

' '  Stop  right  there ! ' '  Gerald  had  risen,  and  his 
face  had  whitened,  too,  beneath  its  coating  of  tan. 
' '  I  'm  going  to  get  at  the  truth  of  this !  What  was 
Alice  accused  of  stealing  and  putting  back?  She 
knew  that  fellow  was  a  detective  all  the  time  and 
never  told  me!  In  Heaven's  name,  why  not?" 

' '  On  my  word  of  honor  I  never  knew  Doyle  was 
a  detective;  I  only  suspected  it  the  last  few  days, 
and  then  I  thought  that  my  aunt  had  hired  him 
to  spy  upon  us — to  keep  us  from  eloping ! ' '  Alice 
declared.  "Don't  look  at  me  like  that,  Gerald! 
It  was  my  aunt's  diamond  necklace  that  was  stolen 
on  the  night  of  the  Harvest  dance,  and,  when  we 
got  home,  she  accused  me  of  taking  it !  You  know 


260     THE  TRIGGER  OP  CONSCIENCE 

how  abusive  she  is  and  what  I  have  had  to  en- 
dure !  I  could  not  tell  you  because,  the  next  morn- 
ing, after  a  conference  with  Mr.  Estridge  and 
some  others  of  the  house  committee,  she  made  me 
promise  not  to  tell  a  soul  that  it  had  been  stolen. 
When  I  suggested  a  private  detective  she  turned 
on  me  and  declared  that  she  would  rather  lose  a 
hundred  necklaces — that  she  would  rather  die  than 
put  herself  in  the  hands  of  such  sharks!  I'm 
sorry,  but  that  is  the  word  she  used,  Mr.  Crane. 
I  have  always  believed  her  implicitly,  and  I  had 
no  reason  to  doubt  her  word,  particularly,  when 
she  told  me,  from  time  to  time,  that  the  necklace 
was  being  sought  in  some  of  the  large  cities.  I 
only  realized  how  cruelly  deceitful  she  was  when, 
after  Doyle's  death  and  the  recovery  of  the  neck- 
lace, she  accused  me  of  putting  it  there !  I  suppose 
I  was  the  only  person  seen  near  that  window, 
early  in  the  evening,  Gerald,  but  I  was  only  wait- 
ing for  you!" 

"Do  you  mean  the  window  where  that  dragon 
lantern  hung — where  poor  Doyle  stood  just  be- 
fore he  was  shot!"  Gerald  demanded.  "But 
that  was  where  we  had  arranged  to  meet  and  slip 
into  the  conservatory,  just  as  we  did  do!  Could 
Doyle  have  found  your  aunt's  necklace  anywhere 
about  there!" 


A  PIECE  OF  EIBBON  261 

"It  was  right  inside  that  lantern  all  the  time! 
It  must  have  been  there  while  I  waited  for  you!" 
The  tears  were  raining  down  the  girl's  pale  cheeks. 
"Oh,  Gerald,  you  believe  in  me,  don't  you?  You 
see  why  Mr.  Crane  has  followed  us  down  here 
this  morning — he  thinks  I  took  the  necklace  and 
then  grew  afraid  and  put  it  in  that  lantern  to 
get  rid  of  it,  but  I  didn't!  If  only  you  believe 
in  me  nothing  else  matters ! ' ' 

"If  any  one  who  accuses  you  of  touching  the 
abominable  thing" — Gerald  did  not  finish  his 
threat,  but  knelt  and  gathered  Alice- into  his  arms. 
"I  only  wish  I  had  known  before  that  your  aunt 
had  accused  you !  You  would  never  have  spent  an- 
other night  under  her  roof,  and  you  never  shall 
again!  My  poor  darling!" 

"Oh,  we  canrt — we  mustn't  tell  just  yet!" 
Alice  exclaimed. 

"Then,  Mrs.  Landon,  may  I  respectfully  sug- 
gest that  when  you  wear  your  wedding  ring  around 
your  neck  you  use  a  longer  ribbon?"  Crane  had 
risen  and  stood  smiling  down  at  them,  "You 
may  not  have  noticed  it,  but  I  have  not  addressed 
you  as  'Miss  Dare'  since  the  wind  almost  blew 
your  hat  off,  a  while  ago,  and  your  coat  flew  open 
as  you  raised  your  arms.  Am  I  the  first  to  be 
able  to  congratulate  you  both?" 


262     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

The  little  bride  smiled  through  her  tears  and 
shyly  placed  her  hand  in  his  extended  one. 

"You  don't  believe  that  I "  she  began. 

"I  do  not,  Mrs.  Landon,  but,  if  you  two  try  to 
keep  your  secret  and  go  about  the  club  looking  as 
guilty  as  a  pair  of  amateur  crooks,  I  warn  you 
that  people  are  bound  to  talk  more  than  they 
have  already!"  Crane  declared. 

"Let  them!"  Gerald  exclaimed  defiantly,  as  he, 
too,  shook  hands  with  the  detective.  "We  were 
only  married  Thursday,  but  this  dodging  and 
sneaking  has  become  unbearable  already.  "We 
thought  that  we  wouldn't  announce  it  until  I  man- 
aged to  get  a  job  with  a  chance  for  advancement, 
but  I  won't  allow  Alice  to  enter  her  aunt's  house 
again.  I  guess  we  can  buck  the  game  together, 
and,  if  you  will  keep  our  confidence  until  after  the 
inquest,  I  will  take  my  wife  with  me  to  town.  In 
the  meantime  I'll  tell  Elsie  Fraser,  and  she  will  put 
Alice  up  for  the  night." 

"You  can  understand  now  why  I  was  afraid  of 
poor  Doyle  when  I  suspected  he  was  a  detective, 
Mr.  Crane, ' '  Alice  said.  ' '  Thinking  that  my  aunt 
might  have  put  him  on  our  trail,  in  spite  of  her 
aversion  to  gentlemen  of  your  profession,  I  feared 
that,  if  he  discovered  we  were  married,  she  would 
force  me  to  let  her  have  it  annulled  at  once,  on 


A  PIECE  OF  EIBBON  203 

the  threat  of — of  accusing  Gerald  and  me  openly 
of  the  theft  of  her  necklace.  I  wanted  to  keep 
our  elopement  a  secret  until  the  real  thief  was 
found. ' ' 

"I  understand,  but  are  you  sure  no  one  else 
knows  of  your  marriage?" 

"I  don't  see  how  they  could,"  she  replied. 
"Gerald  borrowed  the  Erasers'  runabout,  and  we 
drove  to  a  sleepy  little  village,  only  a  few  miles 
away,  and  found  a  minister.  None  of  the  Broad- 
lawns  crowd  ever  go  there  because  there  is  nothing 
to  see  or  do.  You — you  won't  tell,  Mr.  Crane?" 

He  promised,  congratulated  them  again,  and 
took  his  leave.  As  he  drove  slowly  back  to  the  club 
the  grim  lines  settled  once  more  about  his  mouth. 
The  romance  which  he  had  unearthed  had  been 
a  very  pretty  one,  but  it  had  brought  him  no 
nearer  to  a  solution  of  his  problem,  and  the  slayer 
of  his  colleague  still  walked  the  earth,  unknown 
and  unmolested. 

In  the  rotunda  of  the  club  he  came  upon  Philip 
Dorrance  lounging  over  a  sheaf  of  the  Sunday  pa- 
pers which  had  just  arrived  from  town.  He  was  as 
immaculately  turned  out  as  usual,  but  his  round 
face  looked  haggard  and  curiously  wizen,  and  he 
started  nervously  as  the  detective  was  about  to 
pass  him  with  a  mere  nod. 


264     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

' '  I  want  a  word  with  you,  Crane ;  been  waiting 
an  hour,  in  fact, ' '  he  began.  * '  Of  course  you  know 
that  I  wouldn't  have  sent  for  you  last  night  if 
my  wife  hadn't  insisted,  but  you  know  also  what 
women  are !  I  wanted  to  warn  you  in  a  friendly 
way  not  to  take  any  stock  in  that  wild  theory  of 
hers.  I  am  quite  sure  that  there  is  some  mistake 
about  her  emeralds,  and  I  have  persuaded  her  that 
it  is  best  to  keep  the  matter  absolutely  quiet  and 
allow  me  to  attend  to  it  for  her.  If  there  is  any 

fee  for  your  time — your  services  in  calling " 

He  paused  suggestively,  and  Crane's  eyes  nar- 
rowed. 

1 '  There  is  no  fee,  Mr.  Dorrance,  for  I  have  per- 
formed no  service  for  you.  But,  if  you  are  going 
to  attend  to  the  matter  of  the  emeralds,  yourself, 
I  might  give  you  a  word  of  advice." 

" Really?"  Philip's  brows  went  up  supercili- 
ously. "Of  what  sort  may  I  ask?" 

"Go  home  to  your  wife  and  confess  that  you 
yourself  sold  her  emeralds  and  substituted  fakes ; 
she  may  let  you  off  to  avoid  the  scandal, ' '  replied 
Crane.  "Your  only  alternative  is  to  be  packed 
and  ready  to  make  your  get-away  when  she  starts 
for  Harlier's  to-morrow,  but,  if  I  am  any  judge 
of  the  lady,  you  won't  get  far!" 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  SHADOW  O]ST  THE  DOOR 

a  moment  Philip  was  stricken  speechless 
at  the  discovery  of  his  guilt.  Then  he  at- 
tempted to  bluster,  but  Crane  quickly  cut  him 
short. 

"You  did  not  anticipate  that  the  fake  stones 
might  be  imperfectly  set.  You  trusted  to  luck 
that  your  wife  would  not  discover  the  substitution 
for  months  to  come,  didn't  you?  What  have  you 
done  with  the  money,  Mr.  Dorrance?" 

"See  here,  Crane,"  the  desperate  young  man 
said  in  a  subdued  tone,  "this  is  none  of  your  af- 
fair! You  are  not  even  an  official  detective!  If 
I  had  done  this  thing,  which  you  accuse  me  of, 
you  would  have  no  right  to  interfere  without  my 
wife's  sanction,  and  you  don't  suppose  she  would 
give  it,  do  you,  and  make  herself  the  center  of  the 
biggest  social  scandal  that  Broadlawns  ever  had?" 

"  I  do  suppose  just  that — if  I  were  to  go  and  lay 
the  whole  story  before  her,"  retorted  Crane. 

265 


266     THE  TEIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

"Were  you  to  throw  yourself  upon  her  mercy  and 
give  her  some  stall  about  how  you  lost  the  money, 
and  were  she  absolutely  assured  that  not  a  whis- 
per would  ever  be  heard  about  it  she  might  decide 
to  forgive  you.  However  I  have  not  promised 
yet,  and,  if  I  were  to  speak  an  indiscreet  word 
or  two,  here  at  the  club,  or  drop  one  of  the  notes 
which  I  found  after  Doyle's  death,  proving  your 
attempts  to  bribe  him " 

' '  That  is  a  lie ! "  declared  Philip  hotly,  but  his 
face  paled,  and  he  reeled  slightly  against  the  table. 

"Careful,  Mr.  Dorrance!"  the  detective  warned. 
"We  are  alone  in  this  hall  for  the  moment,  but 
it  will  be  a  simple  matter  for  me  to  summon  such 
of  the  house  committee  as  may  be  about  the  build- 
ing or  grounds.  I  can  lay  the  notes  before  them, 
particularly  the  one  in  which  it  is  proved  that 
you  offered  Doyle  a  first  mortgage  on  property 
which  you  do  not  own.  It  is  presumable  that  you 
suggested  carrying  out  the  transaction  through  a 
dummy,  as  you  wanted  all  the  club  funds  upon 
which  he  could  lay  his  hands  before  he  was  ex- 
pected to  disappear.  If  he  had  absconded  he 
would  have  learned  that  it  was  impossible  for  him 
to  collect  interest,  or  foreclose  on  that  mortgage 
in  his  own  name.  Perhaps  you  reasoned  that  he 
was  too  stupid  to  realize  that! " 


THE  SHADOW  ON  THE  DOOR   267 

"Stop!"  Philip's  last  vestige  of  bravado  left 
him,  and  he  whimpered  like  a  stray  cur.  "It's 
no  use,  Crane;  you've  got  me!  I  did  make  the 
substitution  you  suggest,  and  I've  spent  the 
money.  You  were  right,  too,  about  my  wife.  She 
would  hound  me  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  if  I  tried 
to  run  away  and  an  inkling  of  this  got  about. 
If  you  can  find  and  silence  that  impostor,  who  tele- 
phoned yesterday  and  pretended  to  be  from  Har- 
lier's,  I  will  go  to  her  and  tell  her  the  truth. 
Perhaps  her  pride  will  keep  her  from  kicking  me 
out — or  worse." 

"But  I  have  not  yet  promised  to  remain  silent." 
Crane  reminded  him  significantly.  '  *  I  might  have 
my  price  even  if  Doyle  did  not,  you  know." 

"So  that's  it!  I  might  have  known!"  ex- 
claimed Philip.  "Well,  whatever  it  is  I'll  pay  if 
I  can.  There  is  no  use  in  haggling — you  have  got 
me  cornered.  What  do  ycu  want  for  your  si- 
lence ? ' ' 

"The  true  facts  you  threatened  Mrs.  Carter 
with  if  she  didn't  come  across  with  the  money 
for  you  to  replace  those  emeralds, ' '  replied  Crane 
sternly.  "A  part,  but  not  all,  of  your  effort  at 
blackmail  and  extortion,  in  the  glen  yesterday 
morning,  was  overheard." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  Philip  shook  his 


268     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

head.  "I  can't  do  it!"  he  said.  "She  knows 
about  the  emeralds — I  had  to  tell  her,  and  the 
only  hold  I  have  over  her  to  prevent  her  from 
repeating  it  is  the  fact  that  I  could  retaliate.  She 
has  bluffed  me  to  a  standstill,  and  now  it  is  a 
question  of  silence  for  silence.  "What  I  threatened 
to  tell  has  nothing  to  do  with  your  case.  It  is 
just  something  I  discovered  by  accident,  soon  after 
she  came  here,  when  I — I  was  rather  gone  on  her. 
If  that  is  your  ultimatum,  Crane,  you  must  go 
ahead  and  ruin  me,  for  she  would  if  I  spoke;  it 
is  a  fifty-fifty  break." 

Crane  knew  the  unalterable  stubbornness  of  the 
weak  when  they  are  cornered.  Gazing  into  the 
face  of  Philip  Dorrance,  he  realized  that  it  would 
be  futile  to  argue  further.  "With  a  shrug  he  dis- 
missed the  matter.  "Very  well.  I  will  give  you 
your  chance,  anyway.  Go  to  your  wife  and  make 
a  clean  breast  of  it  and  I  will  give  you  both  my 
word  to  forget  what  I  have  learned.  But  she 
must  not  go  about  with  any  scandalous  hints 
against  Miss  Dare  in  connection  with  my  case  and 
what  led  up  to  it.  The  young  lady  is  absolutely 
innocent. ' ' 

"I  understand,  Crane,  and — and  thank  you," 
Philip  answered  brokenly.  "  I  'd  like  to  know  how 
you  got  on  to  me,  though. ' ' 


The  detective  smiled.  "With  Doyle's  notes  and 
my  partial  knowledge  of  what  took  place  between 
you  and  Mrs.  Carter  in  the  glen,  together  with  a 
pretty  well-grounded  suspicion  as  to  the  object 
upon  which  you  had  lately  lavished  more  money 
than  you  could  afford,  it  wasn't  difficult  to  guess," 
he  replied.  "Then,  too,  I  watched  you  rather 
closely  last  night  when  your  wife  was  telling  me 
of  her  loss.  If  ever  guilt  was  written  upon  a  hu- 
man countenance  it  was  upon  yours;  your  nerv- 
ousness, your  over-anxiety  to  assume  charge  of 
the  investigation  yourself,  your  attempts  to  pre- 
vent your  wife  from  openly  accusing  another — all 
told  against  you,  too.  I  will  remain  here  for  the 
next  hour.  If,  during  that  time,  Mrs.  Dorrance 
will  telephone  to  me  here  and  assure  me  that  she 
knows  the  truth,  I  pledge  you  my  word  to  say 
nothing. ' ' 

Leaving  Philip  grateful,  but  crushed  with  the 
prospect  of  the  ordeal  before  him,  Crane  pro- 
ceeded to  the  dining  room,  well  pleased  with  the 
result  of  his  long  shot.  He  was  halfway  through 
his  luncheon  when  a  hand  was  laid  upon  the  back 
of  the  empty  chair  opposite  him  and  an  urbane 
voice  asked:  "Lunching  alone,  Mr.  Crane?  Per- 
haps you  won't  mind  my  joining  you?" 

Crane  glanced  up  to  find  Ogden  Bowles  con- 


270     THE  TBIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

fronting  him,  smiling  as  though  confident  of  his 
welcome.  It  seemed  scarcely  creditable  that  this 
calm,  cold;  well-poised  man  could  be  the  same  who, 
with  the  face  of  a  fiend,  had  driven  so  madly  along 
the  highroad  from  the  glen  on  the  previous  day. 

"Delighted  to  have  you,  Mr.  Bowles,"  he  as- 
sented. A  quick  inspiration,  borne  of  that  mem- 
ory, had  come  to  him,  and  he  added:  "I  haven't 
forgotten  your  very  kind  offer  to  give  me  any  as- 
sistance in  your  power,  and  I  may  hold  you  to  it. '  * 

"Up  a  tree?"  the  other  asked  banteringly,  as 
he  seated  himself.  "I  have  been  in  many  a  tight 
corner  on  the  market.  I  have  had  to  think  quickly 
and  guess  right,  or  it  would  have  been  all  up  with 
me,  and  you  are  cordially  welcome  to  my  amateur 
help  whenever  you  want  it." 

"Thanks!  I  appreciate  the  favor,  but  favors 
are  dangerous  things  sometimes,  don't  you 
think?"  the  detective  asked  pointedly.  "I  do  not 
mean  any  that  you  might  do  me,  but  I  was  thinking 
of  the  foolish,  chivalrous  things  one  sometimes 
does  for  a  lady  in  distress." 

Bowles  glanced  sharply  at  him,  but  Crane's  face 
betrayed  no  hint  of  what  lay  behind  his  words. 
"I  am  not  very  chivalrous,  I  am  afraid."  This 
time  Bowies'  laugh  was  more  obviously  forced 
than  before.  "I  don't  think  I  would  do  anything 


THE  SHADOW  ON  THE  DOOR   271 

I  considered  foolish,  even  for  the  sake  of  a  lady. 
I  am  past  the  age,  Mr.  Crane." 

"We  are  most  vulnerable  when  we  feel  that 
way,"  Crane  replied  in  an  impersonal,  medita- 
tive tone.  "Still  it  isn't  always  wise  to  make  an 
enemy  of  one  woman  to  protect  another." 

The  broker  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork.  ' '  Just 
what  are  you  driving  at?"  he  demanded.  "I 
haven't  been  protecting  any  woman  at  the  expense 
of  another  if  that  is  what  you  are  hinting!" 
There  was  an  underlying  note  of  apprehension  in 
his  tones.  The  detective  was  quick  to  take  advan- 
tage of  it.  "Oh,  I  wTas  speaking  in  the  abstract, 
I  assure  you,"  he  replied  casually.  "I  was  think- 
ing of  a  very  interesting  conversation  I  have  just 
had  with  Mr.  Dorrance.  Some  one  played  a 
rather  stupid  practical  joke  on  his  wife  yesterday 
afternoon,  but  she  has  very  keen  ears  and  a  good 
memory  for  voices,  so  they  didn't  get  away  with 
it  as  successfully  as  they  had  believed.  It  was 
done  to  get  back  at  her  husband  for  his  attitude 
toward  another  woman — but  this  is  in  strict  con- 
fidence, of  course." 

With  the  shrug  of  the  born  gambler,  impassive 
in  loss  as  in  gain,  Bowles  sat  back  in  his  chair. 
"Now  that  you  have  told  me  so  much,  Mr.  Crane 
— in  confidence — hadn't  you  better  finish?" 


272     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

" Suppose  you  do  that,"  suggested  the  other 
quietly.  "It  won't  go  any  farther,  you  know,  but 
I  am  rather  curious  about  it,  and,  when  I  am  curi- 
ous about  anything,  I  usually  get  to  the  bottom 
of  it,  privately  or  otherwise." 

"You  win!"  Bowles  said  after  a  slight  pause. 
"I  think  I  do  know  something  about  what  you 
are  referring  to,  but  that  little  cad  had  been  forc- 
ing his  attentions  upon  a  certain  lady  beyond  the 
limit  of  her  endurance,  and  she  had  no  other  de- 
fense than  to  make  use  of  some  information  she 
had  gained  about  his  wife.  There  wasn't  much 
of  a  joke  about  it,  Mr.  Crane.  Her  knowledge 
was  quite  authentic — or  so  I  understand  she  told 
the  person  to  whom  she  appealed  to  act  for  her. 
She  merely  wanted  to  warn  him  through  Mrs.  Dor- 
ranee  that  she  could  create  some  scandal  for  them 
both  if  he  did  not  cease  to  annoy  her.  I  admit 
that  it  was  a  cattish,  feminine  sort  of  way  of  get- 
ting back,  but  there  was  nothing  criminal  about 
it,  and  I  think  it  will  prove  effectual.  Anyway 
her  intermediary  in  the  little  passage  at  arms  fell 
for  it  and  will  have  to  bear  the  result." 

"I  do  not  believe  that  there  will  be  any,  except 
that  which  the  instigator  of  the  little  revenge  had 
desired,  Mr.  Bowles,"  Crane  reassured  him.  It 
was  evident  that  the  infatuated  broker  knew 


THE  SHADOW  ON  THE  DOOR   273 

nothing  of  Dorrance  's  threat  nor  the  secret  which 
it  involved,  but  had  permitted  his  jealousy  to  be 
worked  upon  to  the  end  that  he  might  be  used. 
"I  wouldn't  do  any  more  impersonating  over  the 
telephone,  though,  if  I  were  you,  even  to  please  a 
lady;  that  sort  of  thing  is  apt  to  lead  to  trouble, 
but  it  won't  in  this  case  because  you  have  come 
clean.  It  may  relieve  your  mind  to  know  that 
Mrs.  Dorrance  has  no  idea  who  her  informant  was, 
and  she  never  will  if  the  matter  goes  no  farther 
from  the  other  side.  It  was  just  a  little  quick 
thinking  and  a  right  guess  on  my  part." 

* '  Sold ! ' '  Bowles  laughed  a  trifle  shamefacedly. 
"I  don't  mind  admitting  that  I  acted  on  the  im- 
pulse of  the  moment,  and  I  have  regretted  it  since. 
It  was  almost  as  caddish  a  thing  as  young  Dor- 
rance himself  would  be  capable  of  doing.  You 
can  wager  that  no  further  move  will  be  made  by 
me  or  any  one  with  whom  I  may  have  the  slight- 
est influence,  and  I  appreciate  your  assurance  that 
you  will  not  disclose  what  you  have  learned.  You 
turned  the  tables  on  me  all  right,  Mr.  Crane.  To 
think  that  I  was  such  a  conceited  idiot  as  to  offer 
you  my  help ! ' ' 

Before  the  detective  could  respond  Henry 
tered  and  approached  his  chair.    "Mrs.  Dorrance 
is  on  the  wire,  sir.     She  says  it  is  very  urgent." 


274     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

Witii  a  word  of  apology  to  his  companion  Crane 
rose  and  followed  the  steward  to  the  booth  in  the 
locker  room,  and  the  deep  tones  of  Mrs.  Dorrance, 
choked  with  emotion,  came  to  him  as  he  lifted 
the  receiver. 

"Mr.  Crane — I  have  called  you  up  to  tell  you 
that,  since  our  conference,  I  have  learned  that  the 
theory  I  expounded  to  you  is  not  tenable,  and  I 
— er — I  deeply  regret  having  made  assertions 
which  I  could  not  prove.  I  shall  hold  you  to  your 
promise  to  keep  my  confidence,  and  I  am  highly 
grateful  for  it."  Her  voice  broke  in  a  throaty 
sob.  "I  have  discovered  that  certain  articles 
which  I  possessed  were  imitation,  and  I  am  going 
to  replace  them  without  taking  any  other  action 
in  the  matter.  I  wish  to  avoid  notoriety  at  all 
costs.  The  change  was  effected  when  the  articles 
were  taken  into  town  over  a  month  ago,  presum- 
ably to  be  cleaned,  but  I  imagine  that  you  have 
already  deduced  that.  I  have  decided,  also — 
solely  for  the  same  reason  of  averting  scandal — 
to  keep  another  imitation  which  I  thought  was 
real  when  I  purchased  it.  You  will  understand, 
I  think." 

"Quite,  Mrs.  Dorrance.  Without  impertinence 
may  I  venture  to  say  that  I  am  truly  sorry  that 
this  situation  should  have  arisen?  Perhaps  it 


THE  SHADOW  ON  THE  DOOR   275 

will  all  turn  out  better  than  you  think,  and  please 
rest  assured  that  I  am  honored  by  your  confidence 
and  shall  not  betray  it. ' ' 

Cutting  short  her  embarrassed  thanks,  he  re- 
turned to  the  dining  room  to  find  that  his  late 
companion  had  vanished,  but  a  little  folded  note 
lay  beside  his  own  plate.  He  read: 

Called  away  suddenly  on  important  business.  Wish  you  were 
my  partner;  with  your  faculties  we  could  corner  the  market. 
I  think  you  will  admit  that  this  luncheon  is  on  me. 

O.B. 

Half  an  hour  later  the  detective  was  rolling 
along  the  highway  toward  the  Sowerbys'  house 
over  the  hill.  He  was  driving  his  own  powerful 
car  which  he  had  brought  out  from  town  on  the 
night  of  the  murder.  He  passed  Mrs.  Carter's 
little  cottage  on  the  way  and  caught  a  fleeting 
glimpse  of  a  soft  blue  gown  and  a  figure  clad  in 
a  brown  suit,  standing  close  together  under  the 
pergola,  and  he  smiled  to  himself.  The  suit  was 
identical  in  shade  with  that  worn  by  Bowles  at 
lunch,  and  the  nature  of  the  important  business 
that  had  called  him  away  was  self-evident. 

Rutherford  Sowerby  had  motored  to  the  station 
to  meet  some  friends  who  were  coming  out  from 
town,  but  Mrs.  Sowerby  received  him  on  a  sunlit 


276     THE  TEIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

veranda.  She  was  dressed  in  a  delicate  pink  which 
brought  out  the  rose  tint  of  her  cheeks,  and  she 
looked  like  the  veriest  girl,  as  she  lav  back  among 
the  flowered-chintz  cushions  of  her  hammock. 
Crane  could  scarcely  believe  her  the  same  woman 
who  had  received  him  in  the  trailing  violet  drap- 
eries, amid  the  exotic  atmosphere  of  dim  lights 
and  musk.  Once  mo  re.  he  gave  her  grudging  admi- 
ration for  the  artistry  with  which  she  "endeavored 
to  create  impressions,  but,  as  before,  the  result 
was  faulty.  The  flush  upon  her  cheeks  was  a  tri- 
fle too  high  to  be  natural,  and  the  sun  revealed 
faint  lines  of  maturity  which  belied  the  girlishness 
of  her  manner. 

"It  is  like  summer,  isn't  it,  Mr.  Crane f"  she 
asked  gushingly,  as  she  patted  a  chair  beside  her 
invitingly.  "Fancy  weather  like  this  at  such  a 
time  in  the  year!" 

"Indian  summer,"  he  amended  smilingly. 

Mrs.  Sowerby  shuddered  prettily  in  mock  dis- 
gust. "Don't  speak  of  it!  I  have  lived  in  an  at- 
mosphere of  Indian  summer  ever  since  I  married ! 
But  what  can  I  do  for  you,  Mr.  Crane?  I  hope 
you  have  not  come  even  to  mention  that  horrid 
affair  of  the  other  night.  It  seems  ages  ago,  and 
I  am  doing  my  best  to  forget  all  about  it. ' ' 


THE  SHADOW  ON  THE  DOOR   277 

"I  am  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  recall  it  to  you, 
then,  Mrs.  Sowerby."  The  detective's  tone  was 
very  grave.  * '  It  would  not  have  been  necessary  to 
do  so,  even  momentarily,  until  the  inquest,  of 
course,  if  you  had  been  quite  frank  with  me  yester- 
day." 

"I?"  Her  blue  eyes  widened  childishly,  but 
the  color  ebbed  from  her  cheeks  beneath  his  gaze, 
leaving  patches  of  pinkish  purple  which  showed 
ghastly  in  the  sunlight.  "I  told  you  all  I  knew, 
which  wasn't  anything,  really." 

"If  you  knew  no  more  than  you  told  me  why 
did  you  say  that  you  were  in  the  conservatory 
when  the  shot  was  fired?  I  am  sorry  to  contra- 
dict so  charming  a  lady,  but  you  were  not  there, 
Mrs.  Sowerby.  Where  were  you?" 

She  bit  her  lips,  and  her  eyes  narrowed,  as  she 
replied  coldly:  "You  have  been  misinformed. 
I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  being  untruthful,  Mr. 
Crane,  and  no  one  can  prove  that  I  was  not  there." 

1 l  I  am  afraid  that  they  can  and  will  if  you  force 
the  issue, ' '  he  insisted  slowly.  ' '  What  did  you  see 
or  hear  before  or  after  that  shot  was  fired,  while 
you  lay  upstairs  in  one  of  the  resting  rooms?  I 
am  sorry  to  be  so  abrupt,  but  your  husband  will 
return  at  any  moment,  and,  unless  you  are  abso- 


278     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

lutely  candid  with  me,  I  must  appeal  to  Mm  to 
persuade  you." 

"How  dare  you!"  Mrs.  Sowerby  sat  up  sud- 
denly, but  one  trembling  hand  went  to  her  throat. 
"I — I  think  this  is  positively  insulting  of  you  to 
attempt  to  coerce  me!  Who — who  told  you  that 
they  saw  me  up  there  1 ' ' 

"I  am  not  at  liberty  to  say,  but  their  evidence 
is  incontrovertible.  What  did  you  see  or  hear 
that  you  were  afraid  to  tell?" 

Her  shudder  was  very  real  this  time,  and  for 
a  moment  she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands.  When 
she  looked  up  it  was  with  the  cowed,  shifting 
glance  of  a  trapped  animal. 

"A  shadow!"  she  whispered.  "I  had  turned 
out  the  light  in  the  room  in  which  I  was  lying,  but 
the  door  was  half  open,  and  directly  against  it, 
only  an  instant  after  the  sound  of  the  shot,  it 
seemed  to  me — before  I  could  collect  myself  to 
rise — I  saw  the  shadow  of  a  hand — a  hand  holding 
a  revolver!  It  disappeared,  and  then  I  heard 
the  sound  of  the  window  at  the  end  of  the  hall 
opening  and  steps  retreating — I  don't  know 
whether  toward  the  rear  or  down  the  front  stairs. 
That  is  all,  really  all,  Mr.  Crane!" 

"Then  why  did  not  you  tell  me  this  in  the  first 
place,  Mrs.  Sowerby?"  he  asked. 


THE  SHADOW  ON  THE  DOOE   279 

1  'Because — because  I  thought  I  knew  who  it 
was  and — my  own  reputation  was  at  stake. ' '  She 
spoke  still  in  that  almost  toneless  whisper.  "I 
— I  thought  I  recognized  the  shadow  of  that 
hand!" 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  ROSE-LEAP  EAB 

*  *  A  -^-^  ^e  admission  that  you  saw  that  shadow 
•**•  of  a  hand  would  hurt  your  reputation,  Mrs. 
Sowerby?  You  mean  that,  if  you  were  called  up- 
on to  aid  in  the  identification  of  the  person  who 
had  passed  down  that  hall,  your  reputation  would 
suffer?" 

"If  I  were  dragged  into  the  case  in  any  way, 
forced  to  admit  that  I  thought  I  knew  who  it  was 
— the  person  would  turn  on  me  and  ruin  me ! ' '  she 
declared  fiercely.  "You  don't  know  what  it  is  to 
have  an  elderly,  jealous  husband  and  live  sur- 
rounded by  a  lot  of  gossiping  cats !  At  the  mer- 
est breath  of  scandal  against  me  that  reached  his 
ears  Mr.  Sowerby  would  cast  me  aside  like  an  old 
glove,  and  he  has  money  and  influence.  I  have 
neither,  and  I  have  endured  too  much,  all  these 
years,  to  be  robbed  now  of  what  I  have  gained. 
A  woman  has  got  to  fight  for  herself  in  this 
world!" 

280 


THE  EOSE-LEAF  EAR  281 

The  veneer  of  childishness  was  gone  from  her 
now,  and  at  last  he  saw  the  real  woman  without 
pose;  shrewd,  mercenary,  with  the  greed  of  one 
who  had  known  stark  necessity  and  meant  now~ 
to  cling  to  her  fleshpots  at  all  costs,  yet  willing 
to  play  with  fire  provided  she  were  not  burnt, 
Maud  Sowerby  presented  a  mere  distorted  cari- 
cature of  the  self  that  her  world  knew. 

"You  saw  only  the  hand?  There  was  a  cuff 
upon  the  wrist  and  a  man's  coat  sleeve?"  asked 
Crane. 

'  *  I — I  do  not  know, '  '  she  said  in  a  lower,  more 
guarded  tone.  "I  did  not  see  the  wrist,  just  the 
hand  with  the  pistol.  It  was  like  a  close-up  in 
the  motion  pictures,  only  awful  because  it  was 
real!" 

"But  the  mere  shadow  of  a  closed  hand  would 
be  almost  impossible  to  recognize,  as  would  the 
sound  of  unseen  footsteps,  unless  the  person  had 
some  peculiarity  in  his  or  her  walk,"  Crane  ex- 
postulated. "You  must  have  had  some  other  rea- 
son for  suspecting  who  had  fired  that  shot,  and 
I  must  remind  you  once  more  of  the  imminent  ar- 
rival of  your  husband.  You  are  fighting  for  your- 
self, Mrs.  Sowerby,  but  I  am  fighting  in  the  inter- 
ests of  justice,  and  I  can  afford  to  show  no  quar- 
ter. You  will  forgive  me,  but  it  is  almost  a  mir- 


282     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

acle  that  no  breath  of  gossip  has  reached  Mr. 
Sowerby's  ears,  for  it  has  reached  mine  from 
many  sources,  and  this  is  no  time  to  mince  mat- 
ters. Whom  did  you  think  Mr.  Dorrance  had 
killed?" 

She  started  up  with  a  little  gasp  and  then  sank 
back  again,  her  stubby  hands  clenching  and  un- 
clenching in  a  storm  of  resentment  and  appre- 
hension. Then  the  sound  of  a  motor  reached  them 
from  the  road,  and  she  collapsed.  "Oh,  don't  tell 
him!  I  have  done  nothing  wrong  except  just  to 
— to  flirt  a  little,  but  Dorry  took  it  seriously,  and 
I  was  frightened  to  death !  If  you  will  only  wait 
I  will  tell  you  everything ! ' ' 

But  the  motor,  instead  of  turning  in  at  the  drive, 
passed  along  the  road,  and  its  sound  diminished 
in  the  distance. 

*  *  Tell  me  now,  Mrs.  Sowerby. ' '  The  detective 's 
tone  suggested  more  of  command  than  request, 
and  he  added  significantly:  "There  is  still  time, 
you  see." 

She  hesitated,  and  then  the  words  came  in  a  lit- 
tle rush.  "I  was  bored,  and  Dorry  amused  me; 
that  was  all  there  was  to  it  on  my  side,  but  the 
conceited  fool  actually  thought  that  I  was  going 
to  run  away  with  him  !  We — we  had  a  quarrel  in 
the  conservatory  on  the  evening  of  the  dance,  and 


THE  EOSE-LEAF  EAR  283 

I  told  him  that  I  had  only  been  playing  with 
him.  Why,  I  didn't  even  care  for  him,  and  if 
I  had  I  would  not  have  given  up  my  position  to 
become  a  pariah*  for  any  man!  He  was  furious 
and  said  that  he  had  already  burned  both  our 
bridges,  and  I  told  him  that  he  couldn't  burn 
mine,  and,  if  he  had  got  into  some  mess,  as  he  had 
hinted,  he  would  have  to  get  out  of  it  the  best  way 
he  could,  without  trying  to  drag  me  in  with  him. 
He  said  he  was  desperate,  but  I  remember  that  I 
replied  I  intended  to  protect  myself  no  matter 
what  happened  to  him. 

' '  I  was  frightened,  though,  for  I  had  never  seen 
him  quite  so  fiercely  in  earnest  before,  and  I  won- 
dered what  reckless,  dreadful  thing  he  had  done. 
It  spoiled  my  evening  and  gave  me  a  headache,  and 
that  was  why  I  went  upstairs  to  lie  down  for  a 
while.  When  I  heard  that  shot  I  was  sure  for  a 
moment  that  he  had  killed  himself,  and  I  was  stiff 
with  the  horror  of  it!  Then,  when  I  saw  the 
shadow  of  that  hand,  I  thought  that,  perhaps,  he 
had — had  killed  my  husband  in  some  quarrel  over 
me,  and  I  covered  my  eyes.  That  is  why  I  saw 
only  the  hand  holding  the  pistol,  but  I  heard  the 
opening  of  the  window  and  the  footsteps  dying 
away  down  the  hall,  just  as  I  have  told  you.  Of 
course  I  am  not  accusing  him,  but  he  had  hinted  so 


284     THE  TRIGGER  OP  CONSCIENCE 

violently,  during  that  quarrel,  of  trouble  coming  to 
both  of  us  that  I  did  not  doubt  it  was  he.  For  a 
minute  I  couldn't  have  moved  nor  screamed  if  I 
had  wanted  to !  Then  some  one  shouted  for  lights 
from  below,  and  I  realized  that  I  would  be  missed. 
I  jumped  up  and  ran  downstairs,  passing  Mrs. 
Carter  who  was  seated  at  the  foot,  and  joined  the 
others  crowding  out  to  the  veranda.  But  I  never 
reached  there.  I  heard  some  one  shrieking,  and 
everything  seemed  to  spin  about  and  disappear 
in  darkness  around  me.  The  next  thing  I  knew  I 
was  lying  on  a  bench  which  had  been  brought 
from  the  conservatory,  and  Mrs.  Fraser  was  tak- 
ing care  of  me.  I  haven't  seen  Dorry  since,  and 
I  never  will  again  if  I  can  avoid  it.  I  hate  the 
very  thought  of  him  now  when  I  think  how  foolish 
I  have  been — how  nearly  I  allowed  a  silly  flirtation 
to  wreck  my  life ! '  ' 

"But,  when  you  discovered  that  it  was  the  sup- 
posed club  secretary  who  had  been  killed,  why  did 
you  still  think  that  Mr.  Dorrance  was  guilty?" 
Crane  asked.  "Why  do  you  think  so  now,  Mrs. 
Sowerby?" 

*  *  Oh,  I  don 't  know  what  to  think ! ' '  She  struck 
one  of  the  cushions  with  her  clenched  fist.  "I 
knew  that  Dorry  had  spent  more  money  in  the  last 
month  than  he  could  ever  have  wheedled  out  of 


THE  ROSE-LEAF  EAE  285 

that  wife  of  his,  and  I  suppose  the  idea  came  to  me 
that  there  had  been  something — well,  funny,  about 
the  club  accounts  in  some  way.  I  knew,  too,  that, 
if  he  were  ever  suspected  and  forced  to  give  an  ac- 
counting, he  would  tell  about  the  attentions  he  has 
showered  on  me  and  work  the  old  Adam  stunt: 
'  The  woman  tempted  me ! '  Now  you  know  every- 
thing, but  I  never  will  admit  that  I  told  it  to  you ! 
I  never  will  admit  that  I  was  anywhere  but  in  the 
conservatory,  alone,  wThen  that  shot  was  fired." 

"Are  you  quite  sure  that  you  saw  that  shadow 
of  a  hand,  or  that  you  heard  those  footsteps  at  all, 
Mrs.  Sowerby?"  Crane  caught  her  shifting  gaze. 
"Are  you  quite  sure  that  there  was  any  one  up- 
stairs but  yourself?" 

"Do  you  mean  that  I  dreamed  it?  You  don't 
suppose  I  would  be  stupid  enough  to  mention  it 
if  I  had,  do  you?" 

"Oh,  no.  I  think  it  must  have  been  real  enough, 
for  the  window  was  open,  and  the  pistol  was  found 
outside  where  it  had  been  thrown.  But  it  was  a 
woman's  pistol,  a  little  toylike  thing,  and  the  bul- 
let taken  from  Doyle's  breast  fits  it!" 

Mrs.  Sowerby  rose,  and  her  eyes  above  the  gar- 
ish patches  of  rouge  were  dilated  with  horror. 
"  '  A  woman 's*pistol!r  "  she  repeated  in  low,  grat- 
ing tones.  "And  you  ask  if  I  were  not  alone  up- 


286     THE  TBIGGEB  OF  CONSCIENCE 

stairs!  Do  you  mean  to  insinuate  that  I  killed 
him  ?  Why,  I  scarcely  knew  that  the  man  existed ! 
Why  should  I  want  to — to  murder  our  club  secre- 
tary! Are  there  no  limits  to  what  people  in  your 
profession  are  permitted  to  say  or  do  in  your  ef- 
forts to  find  a  victim  and  make  out  a  case?" 

"But  are  you  sure  that  you  considered  him 
merely  the  new  clubhouse  secretary?  You  were 
embarrassed  and  confused  in  his  presence  from 
the  very  day  of  his  arrival.  Did  you  not  sus- 
pect him  of  being  other  than  he  appeared?  You 
were  afraid  of  him,  you  avoided  him  as  much  as 
possible.  Did  you  not  fear  that  some  gossip  might 
have  reached  your  husband's  ears,  or  those  of 
Mrs.  Dorrance?  It  is  your  creed  that  women 
must  fight  for  themselves  in  this  world.  Some  do 
it  with  blandishments,  and  some  with  bullets. " 

"Great  heavens,  not  I!"  She  shrank  away 
from  him  as  he,  too,  rose.  "I  did  think,  somehow, 
that  the  man  was  watching  me;  his  eyes  seemed 
to  follow  me  all  the  time,  particularly  when  Dorry 
and  I  were  together,  and  I  admit  that  I  wondered 
once  or  twice  if  he  might  not  be  one  of  those 
shabby  sneaks  who  spy  out  divorce  evidence,  but 
my  conscience  was  clear.  I  had  done  no  wrong, 
and  if  Mrs.  Dorrance  couldn't  keep  her  husband 
to  heel  that  was  her  own  affair !  I  never  thought 


THE  EOSE-LEAF  EAR  287 

seriously  that  it  was  my  husband  who  had  em- 
ployed such  a  creature,  for  Mr.  Sowerby  is  too 
big  a  man  for  that  sort  of  thing.  I  never  had  a 
pistol  or  revolver  in  my  hand  in  my  life.  I 
wouldn't  even  know  how  one  worked.  Who  could 
have  dared  to  hint  at  such  a  thing  of  me  ? " 

The  detective  wras  saved  the  necessity  of  a  re- 
ply by  the  second  whirring  of  a  motor,  but  this 
one  did  not  pass.  It  turned  in  at  the  driveway, 
and,  as  it  approached  the  house,  Mrs.  Sowerby 's 
manner  changed  as  though  by  magic.  Her  brow 
cleared,  her  eyes  reassumed  their  former  child- 
like stare,  and  she  actually  forced  a  dimple  in 
either  cheek  as  she  held  out  her  hand  to  the  de- 
tective. "I  must  entertain  my  husband's  guests, 
Mr.  Crane.  But,  perhaps,  you  would  care  to  stay 
and  meet  them?" 

He  accepted  his  dismissal  and  was  about  to  act 
upon  it,  but  he  was  too  late.  Sowerby  rounded 
the  corner  of  the  house  and  insisted  upon  present- 
ing his  friends,  a  rotund  financier,  named  Barn- 
aby,  and  a  young,  but  rising,  mining  engineer  and 
geologist,  Charles  Wharton. 

*  *  Here 's  the  very  chap  I  was  telling  you  about, ' ' 
Sowerby  announced.  "Sorry  I  wasn't  home 
when  you  arrived,  Crane,  but  I  suppose  my  wife 
has  been  chattering  to  you,  eh?  Now  that  you 


288     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

are  here  you  must  come  in  with  us,  if  only  for  a 
few  minutes.  Maud  will  insist  upon  serving  that 
infernal  tea  of  hers,  but  there's  still  some  of  my 
private  stock  left,  unless  the  butler  has  beaten  me 
to  it!" 

Crane  tried  to  escape,  but,  finding  it  impossible 
to  do  so,  yielded  with  a  good  grace.  Mrs.  Sow- 
erby  appeared  for  a  moment  to  greet  her  hus- 
band 's  friends,  told  the  detective  sweetly  how  glad 
she  was  that  he  had  reconsidered  his  decision  not 
to  wait  for  their  arrival,  and  then,  at  a  growled 
hint  from  Rutherford  Sowerby,  she  retired,  while 
the  four  men  repaired  to  the  smoking  room. 
Crane  did  not  drink  with  the  others,  but  he  lighted 
a  cigar  and  sat  back  studying  the  visitors. 

Barnaby  he  put  down  as  the  average  type  of 
hard-headed  business  man  who  had  made  his  pile, 
but  the  young  engineer  interested  him.  He  was 
rugged  and  deeply  tanned,  with  keen,  humorous 
eyes  and  a  frank,  engaging  manner.  He  had 
lately  come  North  from  the  Texas  oil  fields,  it  ap- 
peared; he  knew  Ralph  Fraser  and  was  curious 
to  hear  all  about  the  tragedy  at  the  club. 

When  it  had  been  thoroughly  discussed  the 
talk  turned  on  celebrated  murder  cases  in  gen- 
eral. The  financier  had  once  been  a  star  witness 
at  the  trial  of  a  bank  robber  who  had  shot  the 


THE  ROSE-LEAF  EAR  289 

watchman.  After  the  financier's  story  Crane 
turned  to  the  other  guest:  "Have  you  ever  been 
present  at  a  murder  trial,  Mr.  Wharton?" 

The  engineer  shook  his  head,  smiling  with  a 
flash  of  white  teeth  in  his  sunburned  face.  "No, 
Mr.  Crane.  Nearest  I  ever  came  to  it  was  the 
Walker  affair  in  Dallas  three  or  four  years  ago, 
but  the  woman  was  never  brought  to  trial  for 
lack  of  sufficient  evidence." 

"  'The  Walker  affair!'  "  Crane  repeated. 

"Don't  you  remember1?"  Wharton  asked. 
"Guess  it  didn't  make  much  of  a  stir  up  here,  but 
it  started  out  to  be  about  the  most  sensational 
case  of  its  kind  that  Dallas  ever  had,  and  then  it 
ended  in  a  fizzle.  Young,  pretty  wife,  rich,  un- 
attractive husband,  good-for-nothing  handsome  ad- 
mirer— the  old  triangle,  with  a  raven-haired,  mod- 
ern Lucretia  Borgia  as  its  apex,  supposed  to  have 
administered  slow  poison  to  friend  husband. 
Anyway  he  died,  and  people  began  to  talk.  When 
it  was  found  out  that  he  had  left  his  wife  only 
the  third  of  his  fortune,  which  the  law  demanded, 
the  admirer  vanished,  and  the  young  widow  could 
not  wholly  conceal  her  chagrin.  Finally  she  was 
arrested,  but  later  she  was  released,  and  no  one 
has  heard  of  her  since." 

"I   remember   reading   about   that,   I   think," 


290     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

Barnaby  remarked.  "Did  you  say  she  was 
pretty?  Didn't  she  have  an  odd  sort  of  a  de- 
formity which  gained  her  a  nickname  in  the 
press?" 

Wharton  nodded.  "  'The  girl  with  the  rose- 
leaf  ear, '  :' '  he  quoted.  '  *  One  ear  was  normal,  but 
the  other  was  undeveloped  and  crumpled,  not  un- 
like the  leaf  of  a  rose.  The  papers,  when  they 
could  get  a  snapshot  of  her  with  that  ear  showing, 
played  it  up  big.  But  she  usually  pulled  down  a 
curl  or  two  over  it  to  hide  it,  although  it  wasn't 
repulsive  at  all.  Rather  attractive  than  other- 
wise, I  thought.  I've  often  seen  her,  but  I  never 
met  her." 

"Where  do  all  these  people  who  are  acquitted 
of  notorious  crimes,  or  released  through  lack  of 
evidence,  go  to?"  demanded  Sowerby.  "Not  one 
in  a  hundred  lives  it  down;  they  disappear  as 
though  they  had  vanished  from  the  face  of  the 
earth,  and  yet  they  must  be  dragging  out  exist- 
ences somewhere." 

The  financier  laughed.  "Remember  Etta 
Wales,  the  girl  who  was  acquitted  of  that  murder 
in  a  taxi  in  Philadelphia  some  little  time  ago?" 
he  asked.  "She  isn't  exactly  dragging  out  exist- 
ence; she's  one  of  the  leading  spirits  in  church 
and  social  circles  in  quite  a  big  town  in  upper  New 


THE  ROSE-LEAF  EAE  291 

York  State,  married  to  the  richest  man  in  the  com- 
munity, and  a  charming,  if  somewhat  austere, 
hostess.  I  know  for  I  have  dined  at  her  house 
more  than  once,  and  I  don't  think  that  any  one 
has  ever  had  a  suspicion  of  her  identity  up  there. 
You  can't  always  tell!" 

"Indeed  you  cannot,"  Crane  agreed,  as  he  rose. 
1 ' Gentlemen,  I'm  delighted  to  have  met  you  and 
had  this  little  talk,  but  I'm  out  here  for  work,  you 
know,  and  I  must  be  getting  on.  Mr.  Sowerby, 
I'll  see  you  at  the  inquest  to-morrow." 

His  host  followed  him  out  into  the  hall.  "Was 
there  anything  that  you  wanted  to  see  me  about 
particularly  ?  "  he  asked.  ' '  Glad  to  be  of  any  help 
that  I  can." 

"Then  have  you  a  private  phone  in  a  booth  or 
closet  somewhere!"  Crane  asked.  "There  is  a 
message  that  I  have  got  to  get  through  to  town 
and  which  I  forgot  all  about  at  the  club.  I 
wouldn't  impose  on  you,  but  my  chief  is  waiting 
on  the  other  end  of  the  line  for  it." 

"Certainly!  Right  this  way  in  that  closet  un- 
der the  stairs!  It  is  a  direct  wire  with  no  other 
extensions  in  the  house,  so  you  won't  be  disturbed 
nor  listened  in  on." 

"Nobody  would  hear  anything  very  sensa- 
tional!" Crane  replied  as  he  stepped  into  the 


292     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

closet.    "It  is  just  a  report  on  some  notes  which 
poor  Doyle  left  behind  him  in  his  office." 

The  smile  faded  from  his  lips,  however,  when 
he  had  closed  the  door  upon  his  host,  and  his  voice 
tensed  with  suppressed  excitement  when  he  gave 
the  number  of  the  agency  in  the  city.  It  seemed 
an  age  before  he  managed  to  get  O'Hare  himself 
on  the  wire. 

"That  you,  chief?  Crane  speaking.  I  want  a 
man  out  here  on  the  first  train  with  all  the  clip- 
pings we've  got  relative  to  the  Walker  murder 
case  in  Dallas,  three  or  four  years  ago.  .  .  .  Yes, 
I  know  it  never  went  to  trial.  .  .  .  Say,  wasn  't  one 
of  our  boys  down  there  about  that  time?  .  .  . 
Who,  Lovell?  Can  you  get  hold  of  him?  .  .  . 
Good !  Send  him  down  with  the  clippings  and  tell 
him  to  make  it  snappy!" 

He  rang  off  before  0  'Hare  could  get  in  any  re- 
marks of  his  own,  and,  stepping  out  of  the  closet, 
he  found  Sowerby  waiting  for  him  by  the  front 
door.  The  latter  would  have  detained  him  hos- 
pitably once  more,  but  Crane  excused  himself 
firmly  and  took  his  leave.  The  gravel  swirled 
from  under  the  wheels  of  his  car,  as  he  tore  down 
the  driveway  and  careened  out  upon  the  highroad 
leading  to  the  club,  and  his  racing  thoughts  kept 
pace  with  it. 


THE  ROSE-LEAF  EAE  293 

Mrs.  Carter!  Why  had  he  not  considered  her 
as  a  dominant  figure  in  the  case  before?  He  had 
sent  a  man  down  to  Charlotte  to  look  her  up,  it  is 
true,  but  merely  to  see  that  the  story,  which  she 
had  told  of  her  early  life,  was  correct,  as  a  matter 
of  routine.  But  had  he?  He  recalled  now  that 
it  had  struck  him  as  odd  from  the  first  that  a  wo- 
man of  her  evident  good  taste  and  artistic  sense 
should  have  worn  her  hair  in  a  fashion  which  was 
so  obviously  unbecoming,  and  he  had  concluded 
that  it  must  be  to  conceal  some  deformity.  That 
was  the  reason,  when  he  had  sent  Walsh  to  town 
with  that  message  to  the  chief  for  a  man  to  go  to 
Charlotte,  he  had  mentioned  the  ears  as  a  means 
of  identifying  the  erstwhile  Nina  Shirley,  and  he 
spoke  of  black  hair  instead  of  red  because  on  his 
visit  to  her,  while  they  stood  together  in  her  sun- 
lit garden,  a  beam  of  light  darting  through  the 
trees  had  rested  for  a  moment  on  her  head,  and 
he  saw  that  the  silky  strands  of  auburn  were  dis- 
tinctly dark  at  the  roots. 

Could  it  be  that  the  secret  which  xPhilip  Dor- 
ranee  had  discovered  concerning  her  had  been  that 
of  the  "rose-leaf"  ear,  and  had  he  remembered 
the  accounts  of  the  case  and  held  her  identity 
over  her  head  in  his-  attempt  to  blackmail  her? 

"You  speak  of  mercy!"     Her  words  came  back 


294     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

to  him  in  a  swift  rush:  " Women  have  shown  me 
scant  mercy  in  my  life. ' '  And  again :  ' '  The  world 
is  wide,  and  Broadlawns  is  only  a  tiny  corner  of 
it!" 

Was  she  one  of  the  driven  ones  of  the  earth, 
of  whom  Sowerby  had  spoken,  who,  acquitted  or 
freed  by  the  law,  were  yet  eternally  branded  and 
cast  out  by  society,  living  in  seclusion  and  fan- 
cied security,  only  to  be  forced  to  move  on  when 
their  identity  became  known? 

On  reaching  the  club,  he  went  directly  to  his 
room  and  paced  back  and  forth  for  an  hour  or 
more,  piecing  together  fact  and  theory.  Doyle  had 
been  in  Texas  three  or  four  years  before,  and  Mrs. 
Carter  had  told  Crane  herself  that  Doyle  seemed 
to  think  he  had  seen  her  somewhere.  Could  it  be 
that  in  the  expression  of  this  thought  he  had  signed 
his  own  death  warrant?  She  had  had  grim  ex- 
periences with  detectives  if  she  were,  indeed,  the 
"Mrs.  Walker"  of  that  former  case.  Had  she 
recognized  the  type,  perhaps  even  recognized  the 
man  himself  through  his  disguise  and  fancied  him 
upon  her  trail? 

A  new  life  was  opening  before  her.  She  had  a 
certain  position  and  the  prospect  of  a  marriage 
which,  at  least,  meant  congeniality  and  added  pros- 
perity. Was  she  the  type  of  woman  to  permit 


THE  ROSE-LEAF  EAR  295 

all  that  to  be  swept  away  from  her  when,  by  one 
daring  act,  she  might  avert  exposure?  Once  mar- 
ried to  Bowles  he  could  not  discard  her  even  if  he 
discovered  that  unfortunate  episode,  provided  she 
had  legally  changed  her  name  to  that  which  she 
now  bore,  for  the  law  had  freed  her. 

The  afternoon  shadows  lengthened,  and  twi- 
light came  while  Crane  mentally  anathematized  the 
infrequency  of  Sunday  trains  and  impatiently 
awaited  the  arrival  of  Lovell  with  the  press  clip- 
pings. Wharton,  the  engineer,  had  said  that  the 
papers  had  played  up  any  snapshots  they  could 
obtain  of  the  suspected  woman  with  the  crumpled 
ear  exposed.  Surely  among  the  clippings  there 
would  be  one  or  more  such  reproductions,  and  dyed 
hair  and  a  lapse  of  a  few  years  could  not  bring  un- 
recognizable changes.  A  glance  at  the  pictures 
would  tell  him  whether  he  was  off  upon  another 
wild-goose  chase,  or  hac1  at  last  hit  upon  the  truth. 

With  dusk  there  came  a  knock  upon  his  door, 
and  he  sprang  eagerly  to  open  it.  Samuel 
Estridge  stood  upon  the  threshold. 

"Heavens,  man,  what  are  you  doing  without  a 
light?"  the  attorney  asked.  "I  trust  I  am  not  in- 
truding on  any  very  serious  train  of  thought,  but 
you  promised  to  look  in  on  me  at  my  lodge  to-day, 
and  I  waited  as  long  as  I  could.  Since  the  moun- 


296     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

tain  did  not  come  to  Mahomet,  behold  Mahomet 
has  come  to  the  mountain,  bag  and  baggage — or  as 
much  as  I  could  crowd  into  my  car !  I  am  a  neigh- 
bor of  yours  now,  Crane. " 

The  detective  had  switched  on  the  light,  and  now 
he  gestured  hospitably  to  a  chair.  ''Come  in, 
do,  Mr.  Estridge.  Delighted  to  have  you,"  he 
said.  "I'm  sorry  about  not  calling  on  you,  but,  to 
be  perfectly  honest,  I  came  by  accident  upon  a 
point  which  may  loom  up  big  in  this  case,  and  it 
temporarily  drove  everything  else  from  my  mind. 
But  what  is  this  about  being  a  neighbor  of  mine? 
Do  you  mean  that  you  have  left  your  lodge  and 
moved  to  the  club?" 

Estridge  nodded.  "It  is  not  my  lodge  any 
longer,  but  has  become  honeymoon  villa,"  he  an- 
nounced. "I  have  turned  it  over,  together  with 
my  scandalized  cook  and  manservant,  to  those  two 
infants,  Gerald  Lanclon  and  Alice,  for  a  month. 
Then  they  will  move  to  town,  and  Gerald  will  en- 
ter my  office ;  shouldn  't  wonder  if  he  did  mighty 
well  in  time,  with  the  proper  backing,  and  I  am 
going  to  see  that  he  gets  that.  Sowerby  will  be 
like  a  bear  with  a  sore  head,  I  am  afraid,  and  I 
cannot  think  of  a  simile  that  would  be  fitting  for 
old  lady  de  Forest's  state  of  mind,  but  I  can't  help 
that.  Those  children  are  going  to  have  a  chance 


THE  ROSE-LEAF  EAR  297 

for  a  little  happiness  before  they  start  to  'buck 
the  game'  together  as  Gerald  expresses  it.  He 
told  me  how  you  discovered  their  romance." 

"How  did  you?"  Crane  laughed. 

"I  didn't.  Gerald  came  to  me  for  advice  this 
afternoon,  and  I  made  him  return  to  the  Frasers ', 
where  he  had  left  her  temporarily,  and  bring  Alice 
straight  to  the  lodge;  I  was  de  trop,  and  that  is 
the  reason  why  I  could  wait  there  no  longer  for 
you.  But  what  about  this  new  point  in  your  case? 
Do  you  feel  inclined  to  discuss  it?  I  heard  that 
you  lunched  here  with  Bowles  to-day;  he's  not 
connected  with  it,  is  he  ? " 

Before  the  detective  could  reply  there  came  a 
second  knock  upon  the  door,  and  this  time  it  was 
Lovell  hims.elf,  armed  with  a  huge  brief  case. 
Estridge  rose,  but  Crane  stopped  him. 

"Don't  go  just  yet,  Mr.  Estridge.  This  is  Lov- 
ell, one  of  our  operatives  from  the  head  office  in 
town  and  a  pal  of  poor  Jim  Doyle.  Did  you  bring 
the  clippings?" 

"Right  here."  The  operative  opened  his  brief 
case  upon  the  bed,  and  a  mass  of  newspaper  cut- 
tings fell  out.  "Nothing  new  turned  up  here 
about  that  Walker  business,  has  there?  These 
are  from  the  principal  Dallas  papers." 

"Dallas?"  the  attorney  asked,  as  Crane  bent 


298     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

eagerly  over  the  clippings.  "Do  you  mean  the 
case  of  the  Walker  woman  who  was  arrested  on 
suspicion  of  having  poisoned  her  husband?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  Lovell  responded.  "Doyle  and  I 
were  in  Dallas  at  the  time,  and  we  saw  her  at  the 
inquest.  She  was  let  off  later  for  lack  of  evidence, 
but  the  case  is  still  open,  and  it  is  a  rule  of  our 
office  to  collect  and  keep  all  clippings  in  big  crim- 
inal cases  until  they  are  definitely  closed,  one  way 
or  another." 

"Mr.  Estridger> — Crane  had  straightened  and 
held  a  double-column  strip  of  newspaper  to  the 
light  for  a  minute  of  close  scrutiny — "you  were 
asking  me  just  now  about  the  new  point  which 
I  thought  I  had  discovered.  If  you  will  look  at 
the  face  pictured  here  I  think  you  will  find  your 
answer. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XIX 

"THE  TRIANGLE  TURN" 

T  AMPLIGHT  was  gleaming  softly  through 
-*-^  amber-tinted  curtains  on  the  lower  floor  of 
Mrs.  Carter's  pretty  cottage.  A  high-powered  car 
drew  up  at  a  discreet  distance  down  the  road,  and 
three  men  alighted. 

"Better  come  up  to  the  house  with  us,  sheriff; 
you  can  wait  with  Lovell  on  the  porch,'*  Crane 
suggested,  as  he  switched  off  the  lights. 

"You  didn't  think  I  was  going  to  sit  back  here 
and  snooze  with  the  warrant  in  my  pocket,  did 
you!"  the  sheriff  asked,  easing  his  stout  body 
through  the  door  of  the  tonneau.  ' ' Don't  you  for- 
get to  fix  it  so  that  the  front  door  is  left  open 
behind  you,  after  her  maid  lets  you  in. ' ' 

They  proceeded  up  the  driveway,  and  when  they 
were  close  to  the  ^juse  Crane  halted.  A  low- 
geared,  long-hooded  runabout,  whose  lines  he  re- 
called, stood  in  the  side  road. 

' '  Bowles  must  have  stayed  to  dinner.    He  wasn  't 

299 


300     THE  TKIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

at  the  club,  and  that  looks  like  his  car  parked 
there." 

"It  is,"  Sheriff  Coburn  replied  grimly.  "I've 
taken  him  up  enough  times  for  speeding,  to  know 
it,  all  right!" 

1 1  That  is  awkward,  but  we  ought  to  have  antici- 
pated it,"  the  detective  remarked,  adding:  "Which 
is  the  drawing-room,  sheriff!" 

"The  row  of  windows  to  the  left  of  the  front 
door." 

"Then  come  on.  I'll  manage  to  disarrange  the 
curtains  at  one  of  those  windows  so  that  you  can 
look  in.  When  I  give  you  the  high  sign  you  will 
know  what  to  do." 

They  ascended  the  steps  of  the  little  porch  as 
lightly  as  possible,  and  Crane  rang  the  bell  while 
the  other  two  crouched  in  the  shadows.  Presently 
a  trim  maid  appeared  and,  after  a  murmured  word 
or  two,  admitted  him,  closing  the  door  tight,  but 
almost  immediately  it  opened  again,  and  a  knife- 
like  ray  of  light  streamed  forth. 

"He's  fixed  the  door,  all  right!"  said  the  sheriff 
with  satisfaction.  "Now  watch  the  windows  and 
see  if  any  of  the  curtains  move." 

To  the  waiting  Lovell  it  seemed  hours  before 
the  draperies  at  one  of  the  windows  in  the  center 
of  the  row  were  swept  aside  as  though  by  a  care- 


"THE  TRIANGLE  TURN"  301 

less  hand,  and,  although  they  fell  back  into  place, 
there  remained  a  narrow  aperture  through  which 
they  could  obtain  a  view  of  the  whole  room. 

Ogden  Bowles  was  seated  a  little  apart,  as 
though  taking  no  share  in  the  conversation,  but 
he  was  watching  every  move  through  narrowed 
lids.  In  the  center  of  the  room  Mrs.  Carter 
leaned  back  among  the  cushions  on  a  low  couch, 
and  Crane  occupied  a  chair  facing  her. 

"Look!"  The  sheriff  nudged  his  companion. 
1 '  The  light  of  that  lamp  is  shining  full  on  her  now, 
and  you  can  see  her  plain.  Is  it  the  same  wo- 
man?" 

"I  couldn't  swear  to  it  from  here,"  Lovell  re- 
sponded after  an  interval.  "Red  hair  does  make 
a  difference,  and  remember  I  only  saw  her  a  couple 
of  times,  years  ago.  Oh,  what  is  Crane  doing?" 

A  tall  vase  of  autumn  flowers  rested  upon  a 
stand  beside  the  couch  upon  which  Mrs.  Carter  was 
seated.  With  an  awkward  gesture  the  detective 
overturned  it.  Bowles  sprang  to  catch  it,  but  he 
collide'd  with  Crane,  and  the  latter,  in  putting  out 
his  hand  to  save  himself,  touched  Mrs.  Carter's 
hair.  She  shrank  back,  but  not  before  he  had 
swept  aside  the  smooth  coil  which  was  banded 
down  tightly  over  her  left  ear,  exposing  for  an 
instant  the  tiny,  crumpled  lobe  of  pink  flesh.  At 


302     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

the  same  moment  he  motioned  almost  impercep- 
tibly toward  the  windows. 

1  'Come  on!  That's  our  signal,"  the  sheriff  ex- 
claimed beneath  his  breath. 

"And  that's  the  woman,  too!"  added  Lovell. 
' '  Easy  now !  Don 't  open  the  door  any  wider  than 
you  can  help." 

They  slipped  through  the  front  door  and  down 
the  hall  to  the  drawing-room.  They  stationed 
themselves  beside  the  threshold,  just  outside  the 
range  of  vision  of  those  within. 

' '  It  doesn  't  matter  in  the  least  about  the  vase, ' ' 
Mrs.  Carter  was  saying.  "But  my  hair!  You 
must  pardon  me  for  a  moment  while  I  go  and 
rearrange  it,  and  I  will  send  Letty  to  mop  up  the 
water  which  was  spilled. ' ' 

"Don't  boither  about  your  hair,  Mrs.  Carter. 
It  is  too  late  now."  Crane  spoke  with  deliberate 
significance. 

"  'Too  late?'  "  she  asked. 

"Yes.  You  did  not  wear  it  like  that  down  in 
Dallas  four  years  ago,  did  you?  But  your  name 
was  not  'Carter'  then  either." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  demanded  sharply. 
"Who  is  this  mysterious  woman  I  am  accused  of 
being?  Ogden,  I  don't  understand  it!  First 
Doyle  and  now  Mr.  Crane " 


"THE  TRIANGLE  TURN"  303 

"And  Doyle  was  shot,"  Crane  interrupted  her. 
"This  is  the  woman  I  know  yon  to  be!  I  have 
just  proved  it  by  creating  a  little  diversion  so  that 
I  might  lift  the  hair  with  which  yonr  left  ear  is 
covered. ' ' 

There  was  a  rustle  of  paper,  a  little  cry,  and 
then  the  sound  of  a  man's  half-suppressed  oath. 

"Don't  believe  him,  Ogden!  Don't  look  at  that 
picture !  It  is  not  I ! "  Her  voice  rose  in  an  ago- 
nized wail.  l  i  The  man  must  be  mad ! ' ' 

"Lovell!"  called  Crane.     "Sheriff  Coburn!" 

The  operative  entered  with  the  sheriff  at  his 
heels,  and  the  woman  confronted  them,  both  hands 
nervously  clutching  her  blouse. 

"Do  you  know  this  lady  I"  Crane  demanded  of 
the  operative.  ' '  Have  you  ever  seen  her  before  7 ' ' 

"Yes,  sir.  I  saw  her  in  Dallas  four  years  ago. 
She  was  under  arrest  for  murdering  her  husband 
by  poison.  Her  hair  was  black  then,  but  it  is  Mrs. 
Walker,"  Lovell  responded  promptly.  "I'd 
swear  to  it  anywhere.  Look  out!  Stop  her, 
somebody ! ' ' 

With  one  last,  despairing  glance  at  Bowies' 
stricken,  but  implacable,  face  the  woman  had 
darted  around  the  table,  crashing  the  chairs  be- 
hind her  to  impede  the  progress  of  the  three  men 
who  sought  to  seize  her.  Then  she  disappeared 


304     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

out  of  a  small  side  door,  slamming  it  after  her. 

"It  works  with  a  spring  lock,"  Crane  exclaimed, 
as  he  tried  vainly  to  wrench  it  open.  "Help  me 
to  break  it  down,  Lovell!" 

It  required  the  united  efforts  of  all  three,  how- 
ever, to  batter  the  stout  little  door  down.  Bowles 
stood  where  he  had  been  when  she  made  her  hur- 
ried flight,  and  he  was  staring  with  dazed  eyes  at 
the  pictured  face  in  the  newspaper  clipping  which 
he  held  in  his  hands. 

Just  as  the  sheriff  and  the  two  detectives  got  the 
door  down  at  last  and  dashed  out  upon  the  ve- 
randa they  heard  the  humming  of  a  powerful  mo- 
tor, and  the  low-geared  runabout  shot  past  them 
and  down  the  drive,  gathering  momentum  as  it 
fled  like  a  live  thing. 

"Quick!  She's  taken  Bowies'  car.  If  she  is 
anything  like  as  good  a  driver  as  he  we  will  have 
a  race  for  it!"  Crane  exclaimed  as  they  rushed 
across  the  lawn  and  burst  through  the  hedge  to 
where  their  own  car  waited. 

"At  the  rate  she  was  going  when  she  turned 
into  the  road,  if  she  isn't  a  good  driver,  it  means 
death,"  Lovell  declared.  "Come  on,  sheriff." 

They  piled  into  the  car,  and  Crane  settled  him- 
self down  grimly  behind  the  wheel.  Far  in  ad- 
vance of  them,  before  he  started  his  own  motor, 


"THE  TRIANGLE  TURN"  305 

the  detective  could  hear  the  diminishing  roar  of  the 
car  ahead,  and  he  knew  that  it  meant  indeed  a 
race. 

"She  ain't  aiming  to  go  through  the  village  at 
that  rate,  is  she?"  Sheriff  Coburn  asked,  as  they 
rolled  down  the  road  with  ever-increasing  speed. 
"No,  she's  turning  off  at  the  Corners  and  head- 
ing, I  guess,  for  the  station  at  Watkins,  to  catch 
the  midnight  express.  A  woman  in  a  blue  dress, 
without  any  hat  nor  coat,  couldn't  get  far !  Great 
Scott!  I  never  went  so  fast  I  couldn't  breathe, 
before ! ' * 

Then  he  lapsed  into  silence.  When  they  took 
the  turning  at  the  Corners  with  a  swirling  skid 
of  the  heavy  back  wheels  an  unconscious  groan  of 
dismay  escaped  him. 

The  road  before  them  was  straight  and  fairly 
level,  and  they  were  gaining  on  the  car  ahead. 
The  moon,  which  had  emerged  from  the  cloudlike 
haze  of  earlier  evening,  showed  them  the  flutter  of 
a  blue  gown,  as  the  runabout  rocked  from  side  to 
side  of  the  road  and  seemed  scarcely  to  touch  the 
ground. 

All  at  once  the  sheriff  gave  a  sudden  cry  of 
horror.  "Catch  her  before  she  gets  to  the  next 
turn  of  the  road,  or  she'll  be  killed,  sure !"  he  said, 
bending  forward  to  call  into  Crane's  ear.  "It's 


306     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

the  Triangle  Turn,  the  sharpest  in  all  the  country 
round !" 

"Doing  my  best!"  called  back  the  detective. 
"Hold  fast!  I'm  going  to  let  her  out!" 

Inch  by  inch  and  yard  by  yard  they  crept  up  to 
the  car  ahead,  but,  just  when  they  seemed  about 
to  overtake  it,  it  would  give  a  sudden  spurt  and 
leap  forward,  scudding  like  a  cloud  before  a  gale. 
Once  they  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  white  patch 
which  was  her  face  as  she  glanced  over  her  shoul- 
der to  see  how  close  her  pursuers  were,  but  her 
car  gave  a  hideous  lurch  and  careened  almost 
across  the  road,  and  she  did  not  look  back  again. 

"There's  the  Triangle  just  ahead!"  shouted  the 
sheriff.  "Good  heavens,  can't  we  stop  her!  If 
you  don't — but  you'll  have  to  slow  up,  or  we'll  be 
done  for  ourselves ! ' ' 

If  Crane  heard  he  gave  no  answer.  He  was 
watching  that  flutter  of  blue  whipping  the  wind 
from  the  pursued  car,  gauging  its  speed  and  its 
chances  of  rounding  that  turn  so  menacingly  near. 
He  knew  that  he  could  not  overtake  her  now  until 
that  point  in  the  road  was  reached,  and  he  slowed 
down. 

The  runabout  shot  forward  as  though  sped 
from  a  cannon's  mouth,  and  suddenly  its  lone  oc- 
cupant seemed  to  be  aware  of  her  own  danger. 


"THE  TRIANGLE  TURN"  307 

A  half-smothered  cry  was  borne  back  to  them,  and 
then  gamely  the  runabout  swerved  to  essay  the 
turn. 

"Can  she  make  it?"  Lovell  asked.  "No! 
She's  over!" 

There  had  come  a  sudden  sharp  crack  from  the 
runabout,  and  it  reeled  madly  to  the  side  of  the 
road,  overturning  in  the  ditch  with  a  sickening 
crash.  The  detective  halted  his  own  car  by  a 
straightaway  dive  through  a  fence  and  into  a 
meadow  of  low,  marshy  ground.  Here  he  circled 
and  slowed  down,  coming  to  a  stop  by  the  broken 
fence.  The  three  men  with  electric  torches  leaped 
from  it  and  crossed  the  road  to  where  the  wreck 
of  the  runabout  lay,  one  white  arm  and  hand 
streaked  with  crimson,  protruding  from  beneath  it. 
She  did  not  move  nor  seem  to  breathe  when  they 
lifted  the  car  from  her  and  dragged  her  out.  Lov- 
ell procured  some  water  from  a  near-by  brook  and 
dashed  it  over  her  face,  and  then  her  eyelids  flut- 
tered and  parted,  and  a  faint  moan  escaped  her. 

She  gazed  bewilderedly  up  at  the  three  for  a 
moment  and  then  consciousness  returned,  and  she 
spoke  faintly:  "This  is  ...  better  so.  I  am 
Nell  Walker.  I  suspected  that  Doyle  was  a  detec- 
tive .  .  .  that  new  proof  had  been  found  against 
me  down  in  Dallas.  As  soon  as  I  was  sure  I  shot 


308     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

him.  I  stood  near  the  foot  of  the  staircase  and 
fired,  then  I  ran  back  and  threw  my  pistol  .  .  . 
out  of — the  hall  window.  When  the  lights  went 
up  I  was  sitting  on  the  stairs  where  I  had  been 
standing.  No  one — knew  I  had  even  moved." 

"Don't  you  try  to  talk  now,  ma'am,"  the  sher- 
iff implored  her  soothingly.  "Are  you  in  any 
pain!" 

"No.  That's  the  odd  part  of  it,  and  my  brain 
is  clear,  but  I  can't  move  a  muscle.  It  must  be 
my  spine  that  is  broken.  My  dear  Mr.  Coburn, 
if  you  and  Mr.  Crane  want  the  truth  from  my  lips 
you  will  have  to  let  me  talk  now  and  talk  quickly. 
I  think  you  understand.  I  did  kill  my  husband  in 
Dallas  ...  in  the  manner  and  for  the  motive  .  .  . 
that  the  coroner  tried  to  establish.  I  had  known 
the  real  Nina  Shirley  ...  in  Charlotte  years  ago 
...  we  had  been  at  school  together,  and  we  always 
corresponded  until  my  trouble.  I  kept  track  of 
her,  though,  and  when  she  died,  just  before  I  came 
here,  I  took  her  name  and  became  her. ' ' 

Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  Crane,  who  had  been 
writing  rapidly  on  a  leaf  torn  from  his  notebook, 
and  now,  as  he  looked  up  expectantly,  she  smiled. 
"My  confession?  I've  heard  of  such  things. 
But  I  think  that  is  all.  Those  lights  you  are 
carrying  .  .  .  gone  out,  haven't  they?  .  .  .  And 


"THE  TRIANGLE  TURN"  309 

What  is  the  matter  .  .  .  with  the  moon?  .  .  . 
Everything  is  growing  dark. ' ' 

The  three  men  glanced  from  their  gleaming 
electric  torches  to  the  brilliant  moonlight  and  then 
at  each  other  and  understood.  The  sheriff  felt 
vaguely  about  his  head  to  remove  the  cap  which 
had  blown  off  at  the  first  turning,  while  Crane 
slipped  a  pen  between  the  woman's  nerveless, 
stained  fingers  and  guided  them  as  they  made  a 
wavering  cross  below  what  he  had  written. 

Her  head  seemed  to  settle  into  the  coat  which 
Lovell  had  folded  beneath  it,  and  her  eyelids 
drooped.  They  thought  her  already  gone  when 
she  spoke  again. 

"My  husband  ...  no  defense,  but  with  Doyle 
...  if  I  hadn't  been  absolutely  sure  .  .  .  would 
never  have  .  .  .  pulled  trigger. ' ' 

She  sighed  gently  and  was  still.  For  a  long 
moment  no  one  spoke  or  moved  and  then  Crane 
drew  a  handkerchief  from  his  pocket  and  laid  it 
softly  over  the  face  upturned  in  the  moonlight. 

"And  the  necklace?"  Samuel  Estridge  queried. 
"Odd  that  the  mystery  of  its  theft  and  reappear- 
ance in  the  dragon  lantern  was  never  cleared  up, 
isn't  it!  That  bauble  of  Mrs.  de  Forest's  was  the 
indirect  cause  of  it  all;  the  death  of  poor  Jim 


Doyle  and  the  unmasking  of  Mrs.  Carter.  I  can- 
not believe  it  was  Murdock,  for  he  has  run  abso- 
lutely straight  in  the  new  position  I  found  for 
him." 

It  was  a  balmy  May  night  in  the  following 
spring  and  he  and  his  week-end  guest,  0 'Hare's 
star  detective,  were  smoking  together  on  the  ter- 
race before  his  lodge. 

Renwick  Crane  smiled  into  the  darkness. 

' '  That  little  affair  was  solved  the  day  after  the 
inquest  but  as  Mrs.  de  Forest  had  regained  her 
property  intact  and  the  charge  she  could  have 
brought  in  any  event  was  merely  a  minor  one  she 
decided  to  avoid  the  notoriety  of  a  prosecution,'' 
he  remarked. 

*  'Really!"  Estridge  leaned  forward  in  his  chair. 
"You  cannot  mean  that  it  was  Alice,  after  all! 
She  has  forgiven  the  elopement  and  made  much  of 
the  young  couple,  particularly  since  Landon  came 
into  all  that  money ! ' ' 

"No,  it  wasn't  her  niece,  nor  was  there  any  ac- 
tual robbery,"  replied  the  detective.  "I  have 
given  you  my  confidence  before  this,  Mr.  Estridge, 
and  I  see  no  reason  for  withholding  it  now,  es- 
pecially as  the — er — borrower  of  the  necklace  is 
no  longer  a  member  of  your  country  club." 

"Ogden  Bowles!"  the  lawyer  ejaculated. 


"THE  TEIANGLE  TURN"  311 

" Exactly."  Crane  nodded.  "I  had  his  finan- 
cial record  looked  up  and  the  report  down  to 
the  most  minute  detail  of  his  transactions  during 
September  and  October  reached  me  the  day  after 
the  inquest.  He  was  a  born  gambler,  you  know, 
a  plunger,  who  took  probably  the  longest  chances 
of  any  operator  on  the  Street  and  in  September 
just  before  the  Harvest  Dance  he  was  virtually  on 
the  rocks,  at  the  ultimate  limit  of  his  resources. 
Three  days  later  he  covered  his  holdings  with  a 
large  sum  of  money — considerably  over  a  hundred 
thousand  dollars, — and  saved  himself.  From  then 
until  Hallowe'en  he  was  on  the  right  side  of  the 
market,  completely  recouped  his  losses  and  made 
a  phenomenal  profit  besides.  Where  did  that 
money  come  from?  What  collateral  security  had 
he  been  able  to  produce  to  obtain  it  ?  Harlier  had 
valued  Mrs.  de  Forest's  necklace  at  something 
over  two  hundred  thousand,  and  I  simply  put  two 
and  two  together  and  accused  him  point-blank. 

"He  had  been  hard  hit  by  the  disclosure  con- 
cerning Mrs.  Carter 's  identity  and  her  tragic  death 
had  completely  unnerved  him,  so  that  at  -my  attack 
he  broke  down  and  told  me  the  truth  without 
reservation.  On  the  night  of  the  Harvest  Dance, 
as  he  was  stepping  into  his  car,  he  saw  something 
shining  in  the  driveway  at  his  feet  and,  picking  it 


312     THE  TRIGGER  OF  CONSCIENCE 

up,  discovered  that  it  was  the  famous  necklace. 
Mrs.  de  Forest  had  been  out  on  the  veranda  dur- 
ing the  evening  and  it  must  have  slipped  from  her 
neck  and  fallen  over  the  rail,  for  if  you  remem- 
ber the  clasp  was  defective." 

Estridge  nodded  without  speaking  and  the  de- 
tective went  on : 

' '  Bowles '  first  impulse  was  to  return  it,  and  then 
he  remembered  his  desperate  need,  and  the  gam- 
bling instinct  arose  within  him.  If  he  could  put 
the  necklace  up  as  security,  recoup  his  losses  and 
regain  it  again  he  could  place  it  where  it  would  be 
easily  found  and  no  one  would  be  the  wiser.  He 
took  the  chance  and  won,  as  we  know,  and  on  the 
night  of  Hallowe'en  he  came  early,  just  after  the 
lights  had  been  strung  on  the  veranda,  and  coiled 
the  necklace  into  the  dragon  lantern.  Then  he 
left  and  returned  with  Mrs.  Carter. ' ' 

"  Could  Doyle  have  seen  him  putting  the  neck- 
lace into  the  lantern?"  asked  Estridge.  "It  must 
have  been  already  lighted." 

"It  was,  but  from  some  notes  which  Jim  Doyle 
left  behind  him  I  think  he  became  suspicious  about 
some  one  else  who  later  from  an  entirely  different 
motive  hovered  about  that  window.  Doyle,  then, 
in  all  probability,  investigated,  discovered  the 
necklace  and  stood  guard  beneath  it  to  catch  the 


"THE  TRIANGLE  TURN"  313 

thief  red-handed,  when  the  shot  came  which  ended 
everything  for  him. ' ' 

"Poor  chap!"  There  was  a  little  silence  and 
then  the  lawyer  added:  "We  all  supposed  that 
Bowles  resigned  from  the  club  and  went  to  live 
abroad  after  selling  his  seat  on  the  Stock  Ex- 
change because  of  his  tragic  memories  of  Mrs. 
Carter." 

"I  think  that  was  a  contributary  reason,  but  he 
promised  me  that  if  he  were  not  prosecuted  he 
would  leave  the  country  and  never  return.  He 
could  not  in  any  event  have  continued  to  play  the 
Wall  Street  game  for  his  nerve  was  gone;  the 
knowledge  that  the  woman  he  loved  was  a  double 
murderess  had  broken  him,  heart  and  spirit. ' ' 

"And  what  a  ghastly  mistake  that  second  mur- 
der was!"  Estridge  threw  his  cigar  end  out  over 
the  terrace  and  watched  the  glowing  arc  of  its 
descending  spark  until  it  vanished  in  the  dewy 
grass  of  the  lawn.  "Your  unfortunate  colleague 
never  even  suspected  Mrs.  Carter 's  identity." 

"No.  Her  hidden  guilt  made  her  self-con- 
scious." Crane  paused  and  added:  "It  was 
from  no  logical  conviction,  but  the  goad  of  her 
own  conscience  alone  which  pulled  that  trigger." 

THE  END 


A     000037145     0 


